


Like Light on Troubled Waters: The Immutability of Love

by rekishi



Series: Young, Hot and Royal [8]
Category: Royalty RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Parents & Children, Politics, Romance, Scandal, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince William of Wales has done it all; he has that university degree that's mandatory these days, he's doing his duty with the military, he does all the representative work anyone could ever want of him, he fell in love and married, he is happy with his husband, he has friends he cares for and who care for him... None of that would be a problem, if he was an ordinary man with an ordinary life. But William isn't an ordinary man, and as far as the press concerned, ordinariness is boring.</p><p>So when life throws a wrench into the usual proceedings, what lies closer than creating the scandal that just isn't happening?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Light on Troubled Waters: The Immutability of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was written about a year ago, much closer to the other pieces in the series than the posting indicates. Due to complications in timing on several sides, it only gets posted now. Sorry about that.
> 
> The story takes place, partially, at the same time as [The Casiraghi Effect](http://archiveofourown.org/works/350777), but in the timeline ends before it, which is why it was placed as Part 8 of the series.

As royal weddings went, the one of cousin Beatrice last year had certainly done its share to put the people of Britain at ease. After the last few years - first Harry getting himself disqualified for succession, then William's own outing and wedding - it had been good for everyone to see matters back to being a little more conventional. Progressiveness was good, his Gran had said with a mild smile when she gave her seal of approval to Bea, but too much of it at once in a traditional place like the British monarchy made people nervous.

Hopefully, it would be sufficient to prevent a Commonwealth-wide outcry when his little mishap from this afternoon hit the papers later tomorrow. It wasn't even his mishap, he had only been involved by association, had saved lives, and in turn been retained at the site for hours afterwards, had been debriefed twice, had reported to his grandmother and poked and prodded so thoroughly that his mind was starting to grow fuzzy around the edges. Or maybe that was due to the pain medication they had shot him up with.

He could have slept at the base. Maybe he should have, but he was still pumped full of adrenaline that just wouldn't dissipate no matter how long they were dragging it out, and he had asked Gran not to inform Carl. That was something he needed to do himself. So he had joined a transport helicopter back to London and was now making his way silently through their apartment in York House.

Even night owl that he was, Carl would be in bed by now, and Wills only bothered with light in the hallway, leaving their bedroom in the dark, letting the illumination from next door guide him. Carl never used the full width of the bed, even when he was alone, always mindful, maybe hopeful, William might be working late into the night and come to bed eventually.

He had gotten rid of his muddy shoes downstairs already and not even bothered with a jacket. The long sleeves of his sweater were giving him enough trouble already. Entering the room on socks, he made his way over to Carl's side of the bed and sat down on the mattress as careful as possible, not to disturb his sleeping husband quite yet. Wills could still smell the metallic smoke on himself, despite showering twice at the base, always keeping his right arm as far away from the falling water as possible.

Reaching out, he traced a fingertip down Carl's temple, then took the hand lying on the blankets and kissed his fingers. "Carl," he said softly, kissed the fingers again. "Carl, wake up."

His husband stirred slightly and he bent down to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Carl's frowned, pressed his eyes together before opening them just a little. "Wills? What-" He shook his head, in disbelief as well as to shake off sleep. "Weren't you. I didn't expect you back before the weekend." He sat up.

William let out a breath. This was the hard part. "There was an accident," he said quietly. "The weather suddenly turned and the wind pushed us down. We almost went down... The other crew wasn't so lucky." It was the gist of the reports he'd been giving all evening long already, and he knew his voice sounded flat and emotionless by now. There also was a weirdly disjointed feeling in him, but he suspected that was another effect of the painkillers.

He watched as Carl's eyes went wide in the dim illumination; worry, concern, even fear warring with anger and annoyance in them. They'd had this fight. Several times over, in fact; his flying, Carl's racing, and it had never led anywhere but to them yelling at each other, falling silent and not reaching a conclusion.

No more than two seconds passed before Carl found his voice again. "Are you hurt? Why didn't anyone tell me? Someone must have- Wills, are you oka-" William cut him off by sealing his lips with his own, and kept them that way for several moments, not quite kissing. After that, he kissed the corner of Carl's mouth in reassurance and sat back again.

It was only then he brought his right arm into view, still swathed in the bandages they had slapped on him to prevent the injury being even more abraded by the rub of clothing. They would have to be removed eventually, or they'd stick to the tissue and nothing could heal. "Burned my arm when I tried to get someone out of the other machine."

"Idiot," Carl whispered while shaking his head and reached out a cautious hand to touch the bandage ever so carefully, not to hurt him. Wills tried his level best not to flinch out of sheer reflex. He trusted Carl, but couldn't help shying away from pain. "You're wearing fireproof clothing, whatever did you do?"

"Turns out fireproof military gear wasn't designed to withstand prolonged exposure," he answered dryly. Five seconds for a racing driver to get out of his cockpit after a crash; Wills knew that from countless, endless practise sessions watched from the side or from the stands. But Carl just threw him a dark look and Wills shrugged. "We got two people out."

His husband looked at him for a long moment before leaning forward and slinging both hands around his neck, hugging him close. Wills used his uninjured arm to hug back and rested his head on Carl's shoulder. "Yeah. I'm proud of you." Kisses were placed on his skin, starting were neck joined shoulder and trailed upwards until Carl's lips rested against his pulse point. "But what would I have done if something had happened to you?"

"I promised you I'll always come back to you." Made years ago, when weather and other unfavourable circumstances had delayed him at the base with no way to contact Carl and his then-lover sick with worry. That had been not long after he had buried his ambitions to go to war for good. Wills had always known that it was highly unlikely he would ever see front line action, simply due to his place in the line of succession, and that once he was married and had children it would be an impossibility. But before Carl that had never seemed like an obstacle. When things between them had gotten serious, though, Wills quickly had realised what that might mean to both of them. 

The RAF still was important to him and giving up flying had never been an issue between them, like Carl ending his racing career had never truly been, and he would continue to do so as long as they let him, but that was different. Most of the time at least. Days like this one not withstanding.

No answer was forthcoming, Carl just hugged him tighter and a long time passed without a word uttered between them.

Wills still felt on edge, although he could feel some of his muscles relaxing into a bone-deep ache that would possess his body utterly by tomorrow. There was nothing much to be done about it but rest, maybe a bit of walking. It'd be easier the day after, almost gone the next.

They stayed like that until Carl exhaled against him and drew back. "And now?"

"Now it's the middle of the night and both of us should be asleep," he said firmly and bent forward to collect another kiss.

Getting undressed wasn't hard, especially not with two people; undresssing his wound was another matter. He looked at Carl as he unwound the bandage they had wrapped around his arm to keep the ointments and sterile cloth in place. The cloth was already sticking to what was left of his skin beneath and the pain when Carl removed it was minor, many of the nerve endings either burned away or still dulled by the pain medication. "This doesn't look good."

"Borderline. It'll leave a scar, they said." He was lucky his hand had come away unscathed, and he said as much. Carl sighed, shook his head and renewed ointment and bandage, much to William's protests.

"You'll only hurt yourself if you keep it unbandaged tonight. Or I'll hurt you. I don't want that. And by tomorrow this would be a mess." He finished and brought that hand up to kiss it. They were sitting on their bed, light turned on high by now and Carl rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking tired. "Do you want to sleep?"

Wills hesitated. He knew he wouldn't be able to catch any sleep just yet, but he knew Carl had places to be tomorrow and he didn't want to keep him up any longer. It seemed that slight hesitation was enough to convey the message and elicited the first smile, a smirk even, from Carl he had seen since coming back. His husband didn't say anything though, but only leaned forward and kissed him, tongue pushing into his mouth and retracting, coming back again to seek contact. Wills sighed into the kiss and reached out for Carl to draw them both down, but Carl broke away chuckling and instead placed light kisses on his lips when Wills started protesting.

He got off the bed to kill the lights, looked back after doing so and the only illumination was his bedside light, switched on but turned towards the wall. His eyes were dark, but if due to arousal or the dim light, Wills couldn't tell. "Get rid of the shorts, love, they're in the way."

There was something to be said for Carl's mouth hot on his cock, hotter even, than the heat still radiating from his injured arm. Tongue and a scrape of teeth working on him and he heard himself moan into the quietness of the room and was distantly glad they had moved into a part of the palace where no one else lived right now. He tried not to buck, not to startle Carl, if only the man didn't encourage him and at some point he lost his tenuous control over himself, the residue adrenalin and his arousal getting the better of him and leaving him utterly exhausted.

The last thing he remembered that night, thought he remembered, was Carl coming up to lie next to him, one arm slipping beneath him as a pillow, head on his shoulder, the other arm slung over his midriff to keep them close together with the comforter lightly resting over them, his injured arm carefully arranged on top of the blanket.

He woke up not to his internal clock or the alarm of his mobile but to the strong smell of coffee and a kiss to his forehead. Breathing in sharply he blinked his eyes open and Carl pressed a kiss to his lips, obviously not caring about morning breath. "How are you feeling?"

"Hmm," he hummed and tensed several muscles to assess the severeness of the side effects. "Sore. And not in the good way." After pushing himself into a sitting position he accepted a mug of coffee from Carl and craned his neck to look at his mobile. "You shouldn't let me sleep this long."

Carl snorted. "You're hurt, you don't have appointments, you have a right to some rest. Helps with the whole healing process, you know?"

"I might have heard about it." He smiled mildly at his husband's scowl; Carl was sweet, worrying about him like that, but Wills had to admit, if their roles were reversed, he'd not be any different. "Thanks for the coffee."

"We do have eggs, if you want."

Wills shook his head. "Maybe later. When's your appointment?" Carl was supposed to attend a cheque presentation for Childhood in Madeleine's stead, but as things stood, that would likely be connected to a luncheon and not to be too early in the morning.

"Eleven. Enough time to have breakfast with you," Carl said decidedly and frowned.

There was no helping it, Wills had to laugh and would have leaned forward for another kiss if the overstrained muscles in his back hadn't protested at the mere idea. Instead, he reached out to tenderly stroke a strand of hair off his husband's forehead. "I'll go and see Gran in the meantime."

"You should go and see a doctor." Advice Carl himself would not follow, if he was sitting here, but Wills didn't point that out to him.

"Two weeks off duty, keep the wound clean and dry, keep it healing, check for shortness of breath and nausea," he sighed and checked the last point off on his finger, "and see someone whenever something's off. Oh and come see the RAF butcher after two weeks. I'm sure they'll send someone by sooner than that, though."

Carl cocked his head. "Drilled that into you yesterday, did they?" Wills shrugged. It was to be expected for any soldier, considering who he was...even more so. "Are royal duties included in those two weeks?"

"I don't know, I'd have to ask Gran," he answered and narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?" When Carl just looked at him innocently he put the mug on the night stand and looked at him expectantly in turn.

"Fine. I was just thinking, if you've got to take it easy for the next two weeks anyway, and I only have two appointments easily shoved backwards here and a few things to follow up on for Vicky, we could go visit Andrea." He shrugged in turn, added, "We haven't been to see him and Tatiana for a while, and I'm sure they'd appreciate it not to have to come up here all the time with a toddler."

Not a bad idea, all things considered. Even if 'a while' was exaggerated, considering they had spent part of the summer there. If it wasn't for the second part of his newly acquired handicap, at least. "You know that I'm not allowed to fly high elevation, do you?" Wills sighed.

But Carl only leaned forward, hovering close enough over his lips that William could feel him speak. "I can drive us." He kissed him lightly. "You can spell me off on the boring stretches." They kissed again and Wills had to smile.

"It's France, what can be exciting there?" Wills teased gently, never quite stopping the kisses.

"Anything's better than the tunnel. What do you say?" Carl nuzzled the soft underside of his jaw, placed little licks and deliberately marking nips. Who was he not to give in to such thorough attempts at persuasion?

~*~

Three days later saw them driving through southern France on their way to Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in one of the heavily armoured limousines. The small village was where Andrea and Tatiana had made their home with their son for as long as Prince Albert offered his nephew as grace period until he was to be Prince of Monaco. It was the same village Andrea's mother had raised him and his siblings in, convinced it was a saner place than Monaco for young children.

They'd left early, or late depending how one saw it, to avoid too much detection by travellers, but also to make good time and not arrive in the dead of night. Wills, cleared to drive, had taken them down to Dover and through the tunnel, Carl dozing or sleeping at his side, and they had spelled off outside Calais after a brief stop for some snacks. They'd switched driving duty twice more and were now just past Lyon and Carl would manage the rest of the way on his own. Wills had his right hand buried in the soft hair at the nape of Carl's neck, caressing gently, but had to reach down to retrieve the requested water bottle.

"You doing okay?" Carl asked after handing it back.

"Fine. Stings, but that's to be expected. It's good exercise keeping it elevated, keep the circulation up. Don't worry." They briefly smiled at each other, then Carl had his eyes back on the road.

There was no question that Carl was an excellent driver and Wills had never felt anything but secure next to him. Maybe that first experience on a frozen lake in Sweden aside. He proceeded to look out the window again, at fields golden with crop or gleaned already, and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't quite sure of what, maybe because he'd gotten away from London before having to talk with his father about his injury. That would have been anything but fun. 

Andrea's standing invitation to wherever he was living at the time - Paris, Monaco or Saint-Rémy, now - had become their getaway rather quickly after their wedding and William's first real talk with the man. It couldn't have turned out any different, considering two weeks after returning from their honeymoon they'd gotten so drunk together that Wills had woken up in bed with Andrea's arms slung around his hip the next day - dressed, quite thankfully, with Carl smirking at him from his perch at the side of the bed. Although back at the time of the lube incident, when Carl had first told him about his little escapade with Andrea, Wills would never have thought that Andrea Casiraghi (and Tatiana Santo Domingo by association, now Grimaldi both of them) would become such an integral part of his life.

Even with Carl turning out to be quite close friends with Andrea, at times his own deep trust in him surprised Wills. He usually was cautious with new people who weren't family - even though he had warmed up quickly to Carl but that had been a vastly different situation - but with Andrea Casiraghi things had stood a little differently. He _had_ helped them escape from the paparazzi during their honeymoon when he'd only once talked to Wills, true, but even that should not have been significant enough. After that huge bottle of lube, he had made some discreet inquiries since anything he had heard out of Monaco in the years prior to it had mostly not been good. All the more surprised he'd been to discover Andrea was vastly different in character from his uncle the Prince. The degree of involvement in his charities alone, without ever being overtly prolific there, spoke volumes.

On top of it all, it was easy to be fond of Andrea. It would, in fact, have been almost as easy to be more than that and Wills had never blamed Carl for taking up an opportunity when it presented itself; considering they had not even been together at that point, it would be wrong to do so anyway. But this wasn't an unidirectional affection, as Andrea had used Clarence House already as a place to vanish for a few days. Unannounced, mostly, and he'd been lucky that one or both of them had always been home and he didn't have to try to convince William's father to let him through the door, figuratively speaking, and continued to do so in the years they were living in York House.

Like that one time, two years ago, shortly after their move when William had been called down because he had a 'visitor', and the emphasis as well as the fact that whoever it was had not been shown up had made him expect the worst. Naked Harry, maybe. He had not counted on Andrea waiting in the reception hall with a travel bag slung over his shoulder, looking around and commenting on the stuffy interior to himself, or the guards, or the rest of the somewhat nosy personnel still around after nine in the evening (it was, after all, a palace and while they might do with their living quarters what they pleased, the public and semi-public areas were off limits to personal touches, as Wills pointed out from the stairs).

It was probably a good thing at least the guards had switched over together with them, and had by now ushered everyone back to their work, because else someone might have actually cared that the likely-heir to the throne of Monaco greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the lips. The Clarence House staff had been used to kisses to cheek and lips after a while, over here, some gentle pre-exposure was probably necessary.

"You missed dinner, but I can offer you supper, if you don't mind take out," Wills pointed out after inviting Andrea upstairs and installing him on the couch in a comfortable sprawl.

The other man wrinkled his nose. "As long as it's not what you pretend to be Italian... I wouldn't mind some food."

Grinning, he went to place a call downstairs. "Carl has made a deal with the guards a few years ago. There's an Indian place which doesn't ask questions, even though they say the delivery person is sceptical about delivering to a palace, but at least no one thinks we're playing pranks when we give our names."

Andrea hummed. "Where's Carl anyway?"

"Sweden, being proper royalty. What do I owe the late visit to? Not that I mind you being here, but..."

His friend shrugged and looked elsewhere. Wills raised both eyebrows but didn't pry just yet. Let the greasy composition that was British style chicken masala work its magic first. "I thought he wanted to reduce his work in Sweden a little? Or at least that you would go with him, when he had a race." Andrea had changed the subject back and Wills sighed to himself. Worse than pulling teeth.

"He doesn't have a race and I have my own pony club." When Andrea still wasn't forthcoming with anything more, Wills busied himself with getting them both a beer and wait for the food in relative silence, save for a few questions after Andrea's family and the highly pregnant Tatiana. The only answer he got was that they were all fine, though.

The food finally came twenty minutes after he had placed the call, one thing to say about that Indian place, they did give palace orders priority. They ate mostly in silence and Wills provided his guest with another bottle of beer. "Masala and lager, it only ever tastes like this in Britain," Andrea mused as he leaned back, bottle in hand, absently picking at the label.

"Andrea-"

"Tatiana told me to look for elsewhere to stay for a few days so I could annoy someone else for a change," his friend cut him off with a lopsided smile and tension suddenly seemed to drain from him. "My mother says she kicked my father out three times when she was pregnant with me, so I shouldn't worry and just come back the day after tomorrow. So here I am."

Wills had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Harry had been aired out several times by Alex as well, in the last few months of her pregnancy. "I see," he just said. "Well, you can stay here, of course, but isn't this a bit far for a three day trip?"

"Thanks, but that's not the only reason I'm here. And it's better doing this in person, anyway."

Wills blinked. Had he missed something? Had something significant happened in the last few days or weeks that would cause Andrea, of all people, to be this serious? Granted, ever since Tatiana had gotten pregnant he'd lost the ever-amused air around him, but Wills was sure it would return once that child was safely born and their home in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence was ready to be moved into.

"Okay?" Wills frowned.

"Tatiana is due in three weeks." That was nothing new, so William just nodded. "And that leaves us with a few decisions to make...not the least of it the name but as he or she isn't cooperating, I guess we'll just have to wait with that." He sighed and took another swig of beer, then looked Wills straight into the eye. "William, would you like to be our child's godfather?"

Wills almost fell off the sofa. "Do you have to scare me like that?"

"What?" Andrea looked around hectically. "What did I do?"

"I thought," Wills gestures with his hand, "you were terminally ill, or needed a piece of my liver, or something." He exhaled and emptied his beer. "Man!"

"Sorry," Andrea said with the first genuine smile that evening.

"Yeah," he scowled. "Never mind. Of course I'll be godfather to your child." Something suddenly occurred to him, he started to speak but stopped. But Andrea was his friend, surely he wouldn't understand this the wrong way. "Just..."

Andrea leaned forward again, eyebrows raised and Wills sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't misunderstand me but... How politically motivated is this?"

"Wills, I'm a Grimaldi," his friend deadpanned.

"And I've met your mother. Andrea, look-"

But the other man just held up a hand and shook his head. "It's okay, I get it. And I'm not only asking as your friend, although I'm asking as your friend _first_ ," he paused until he saw Wills nod. "We've asked Tatiana's brother and Charlotte as well, and we would have liked both you and Carl, but since we're also asking Victoria..." And what better combination than the future King of England and the future Queen of Sweden as godparents for the first born child of the future Prince of Monaco? He shrugged. "It's not how it looks."

"How do you think it looks?" Wills wondered.

"Like we're trying to show off weight to throw around that we don't have," Andrea sighed and Wills began to understand why his friend was acting like he was about to be executed. "Not that I care what the rest of the royal circuit thinks."

"You're Grimaldi, after all." That startled a self-conscious grin out of Andrea, and Wills shrugged. "We're your friends, Andrea. But you know why I asked."

"Favours between us are never just private, even if they are," the other man nodded. "So, where's Carl?"

He frowned. "In Sweden, like I said." This didn't make one lick of sense. "Where else should he be?" With Madde pregnant and scary, Wills was somewhat glad he hadn't accompanied his husband this time. 

"I don't know," Andrea mused and drank the last of his beer. "I don't need to stage an intervention to kit things between you, do I?"

It was the moment Wills wished he hadn't gotten more beer for them both and that he hadn't opened his to drink, because then he wouldn't be choking on the stuff now. "What?" he asked when he had gulped down a few precious breaths of air.

Andrea had gotten up and was patting his back. "There's no problem between you?"

"No!" He leaned into the cushions and peered at his friend in front of him. "What gave you that kind of idea?"

"This sudden move and the two of you never appearing in public together anymore." The other man sat down and leaned back as well to rest his head on William's shoulder. "Tatiana said I was seeing things."

"You should listen to your wife more often," Wills answered dryly, hand coming up to ruffle Andrea's hair, then smoothed it down again with gentle pats. "We needed to get out of my father's immediate reach. It's not like he's in London all that much at the moment, but he kept niggling at us. You've met him, and I wasn't willing to tolerate that on a daily basis any longer. So when Gran asked if there was anything I needed I asked if we could move back here, as this part of the complex was uninhabited and recently renovated. The good thing is that it gives Harry and Alex a bit more room to move around as well."

"Don't let Tatiana hear you said that to me or she'll demand I actually follow. I like what you made of the place. Much nicer than your Clarence House apartment." He looked around. "More space, too? It seems bigger."

Wills tried to look at it himself with fresh eyes. One corner of the living room was occupied by a mould, for something he wouldn't explain. Carl had been working on and off on for the last six months or so, interrupted by strings of appointments as well as their move and being occupied with more immediate things than his design work. Photographs Carl had taken other the last few years leaned framed against walls, waiting to be put up; a group shot showing all of them in various stages of drunkenness - Guillaume the most sober of them all and looking slightly embarrassed - stood on a sideboard, making both him and Carl grin madly every time they saw it; books lying on the low couch table Andrea had propped one foot up on now, a picture half tucked into one of them as a bookmark. 

Wills knew it was the one Carl had found on his memory chip at one point, from when one of their friends had borrowed the camera for a few random shots during a summer get-together at a lake in Sweden. The picture was showing him and Wills about to kiss, looking into each other's eyes and Carl having one arm slung around his neck while they were sharing a joke or comment. It was the way he always wanted them to be, happy and content and in love, which was why he knew Carl used it as a bookmark. Smiling, Wills gave a final pat to Andrea's hair before letting his hand rest on his friend's shoulder.

"Somewhat. Different floor plan, too, which makes the living room a bit more central. And by rights you should have come help moving, you have no idea how much work it was to move a whole closet worth of sex toys here without anyone noticing." Wills frowned, but Andrea just threw him an evil grin. 

"You have fun, though, don't you?" he teased.

They sure did. But he and Andrea had both been entirely too sober to have that kind of discussion among themselves, so Wills had just swatted at him and Andrea started telling about their new home and his hopes that Albert would grant him a few more years, before recalling him to Monaco permanently.

Wills was pulled from his reverie when Carl took his hand and pressed a kiss on it, never taking his eyes off the light traffic. "Do you want to take a break?"

"You're the one driving, I should ask you that." But when Wills glanced over, Carl looked content and relaxed behind the wheel, their joined hands resting on his thigh, careful not to disturb the healing wound. They were quiet for a moment, after which Wills sighed again. "It just occurred to me why Gran was so amenable to just let us leave."

A brief look at him and then Carl's gaze was back on the road. "You're injured, you're on doctor's leave, she would hardly have made you work. And she doesn't assign me a lot of random things on my own anyway." Which was true, as Carl had his own charities and patronages in Britain, all of them closely related to William's own but distinct enough to let him establish his own profile for the media and the people, but he didn't get single appointments unless he asked for it. It was, after all, no secret that he didn't have the most amiable relationship with the press, even though his reasons were different than William's. 

"It's also our last chance to get away for a bit until after Australia," he pointed out and saw Carl's brows shoot up. It was their first official tour to a Commonwealth state together and was supposed to last four weeks. They'd started the preparatory work for it months ago and both of them were looking forward to it a lot, especially as they'd be able to gauge the mood regarding their marriage themselves, rather than rely on reports and tabloid headlines.

"Well then," Carl said and brought their hands up again to kiss his fingers once more, "I guess we'll have to make the most of it."

In the end they had stopped once more to pick up flowers for Tatiana (a bottle of Swedish Akvavit for both of them was tucked into their luggage, but the chivalry bred into them won out in the end), and arrived at the house in the late afternoon.

Their friends' home was not a lot like that of other crown princely couples (and for all intents and purposes, that was what Tatiana and Andrea were, even if Andrea's mother was still nominally Hereditary Princess of Monaco). A large bar dominated one half of the living room, which took up almost the entire ground floor, the other half was taken up by the entertainment section, plasma screen, couches, strategically placed speakers to fill the entire house with noise, if desired. All other rooms, except the spacious kitchen and guest room, had been delegated upstairs.

Wills spent the first two hours of their visit playing with his godson, who squealed in delight upon seeing him, while Carl filled in their friends about what they'd missed, probably up to and including the cause if his injury, which Andrea had noted with dismay. Between him and Carl, William's grandmother could have saved herself the breath of her lecture, he was getting all the disapproval from his friends already, after all. 

"So I hear you're a hero," Tatiana remarked quietly when she came over to take a sleeping Stefano from his arms to bring him to bed. Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. "You need to take better care of yourself. You have responsibilities beyond yourself." She hoisted her son higher into her arms so he wouldn't slip and Wills reached out and stroked his soft hair.

"You'll laugh, I lectured Guillaume on that a couple of years ago." That idiot workaholic, one could only hope that he wouldn't bring himself into an early grave.

She smiled. "Different circumstances, surely. Go have something to drink, I'll be back down in a bit."

Even though it didn't seem like it when he looked at Tatiana these days, humming Spanish nursery rhymes and talking softly to her son, neither her nor Andrea were truly settled. They had become quieter, when their son was around, but once the boy was with the nanny and out of sight, nothing seemed to have changed; Tatiana could still drink him under the table and Andrea surely gave it his best try.

He joined Carl and Andrea, kissed his husband quickly, tasting hops, and thanked his friend for the bottle of beer he was handed. His gaze fell on Tatiana's glass of juice, but Carl just shrugged and reached out to rest a hand on his leg. "They're not telling."

"There's nothing to tell," Andrea insisted and it sounded like it was at least the third time he was saying it.

"Sure," Wills agreed with a last meaningful glance at the glass. It was good timing for a second child, Andrea certainly didn't want to start thinking about it once he had to fill his role as Prince, and much as it wasn't proper to say it about a lady, neither of them was getting any younger. The only question that remained was if their friends wanted to try juggling a long-distance marriage - at least until the children were in school - or if they wanted to brave the madhouse that was Monaco.

They passed the rest of the evening catching up and with small talk, until retiring relatively early, as even Carl admitted to being a little exhausted from the long drive.

"Boy or girl, do you think?" Carl asked quietly and finished bandaging William's arm for the night. The burn didn't look as angry as it had right after the accident and there was no skin being shed from it any longer and Wills was telling himself bandaging at night helped. He was off the pain killers during the day time but took a pill in the evening.

"No idea," he answered and drew his husband down on the bed along with him once Carl had finished and kissed him quickly on the mouth. "Let's hope for a girl, to keep things balanced. And the Casiraghis make good big brothers to girls, look at them."

Humming, Carl rolled half on top of him, elbows braced to take part of his weight and bent low to place gentle little bites to the soft skin behind his ear. "But they are Grimaldi," he whispered and nipped sharply at the cartilage.

Wills bit his lip at the unexpected sting and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Carl's shorts. He was rewarded with a gasp when he teased most sensitive areas and smirked, bit at the junction of neck and shoulder and licked it better again. "Details," he murmured in answer as much as gentle admonishment. He could feel Carl against him, bucked his hips upwards and heard him chuckle.

"Impatient?" Carl asked, but Wills didn't get to respond because he was kissed deeply, his breath stolen away. But he'd been too pliable under Carl's hands for the last few days already, so he broke the kiss and flicked his tongue teasingly into Carl's mouth a few times, making his husband chase him and growl with his own impatience.

He chuckled against Carl's mouth, collected momentum to roll them around, putting himself on top, and threaded both hands into his hair. "Who's impatient?" he asked between kisses kept intentionally light and playful. Things were just starting to get even more interesting with Carl pushing at his shorts, when a loud scream for Mama and subsequent crying echoed through the house.

They looked at one another and started laughing simultaneously as the crying suddenly cut off. Wills slid off his husband and they were lying next to each other; he rested one hand on Carl's side and stroked up and down over ribcage and hip. "Remember the first time that happened?"

"We thought we'd woken him up and were scared to death of Tatiana descending on us," Carl answered with a grin and leaned in to press another kiss on his lips.

"Mh, Guillaume calls her a Valkyrie and says she is in league with Theodora."

Making a face, Carl rolled onto his back and crossed his arms. "Did you have to mention Guillaume and kill the mood?"

Rolling towards his husband, Wills slung one arm around his middle and rested his chin on his chest to look up at his husband, his other hand worked its way into Carl's shorts once more. "Oh, I'm sure we can bring it...up again," he smirked.

~*~

A couple of days later, Wills was woken up by giggling coming from the kitchen and the fact that he came up empty when he reached over to the other side of the bed, with the sheets still warm, told him Carl had probably tapped out to the kitchen dressed only in his car print shorts he'd gotten from Amedeo for Christmas, and run into Tatiana. Morning coffee in bed was a luxury Wills only indulged on when he was on holiday and even then it had only become a regular thing when he'd started living with Carl.

Sighing, he burrowed into the bedding again and waited. They'd be going to Monaco today, a short two or three day trip over to meet up with Andrea's siblings and attend the coming season's Champion's League draw, which meant putting in some minor representative work for him. They would not attend the Super Cup match to avoid running into Andrea's uncle, who Wills and Carl tried to avoid to not get drawn into any unnecessary complications down the road. 

A few minutes later, when Carl came back into the room, Wills pretended to still be asleep. His husband came around to his side of the bed and set two mugs on the night stand. As soon as Wills was sure Carl's hands were empty and no one would get scalded, he quickly reached out with his left and pulled Carl bed into bed, feeling his breath rush from his lungs and Wills rolled them around so he ended up on top of his husband. By then, both of them were laughing and Carl raised his head for a kiss. 

"Good morning," Wills said and dropped a kiss on Carl's chest, too, before levering himself up and reaching for the coffee mugs. "I take it the shorts didn't fail to elicit their intended reaction?"

"I don't know what everyone's getting at. I like them. They're cool." Carl had pointed that out with a pout, but accepted the mug handed to him. 

"They are that, love," Wills answered with a smile and patted his husband's knee, letting his hand slowly travel upward and rest on his thigh. Holidays were good, he knew, to keep them balanced. 

Later that day, sitting in the semi-darkness of the audience while on the stage the Champion's League group stages were drawn, Wills surveyed their little group. Carl had opted for his usual open collared shirt-jeans-sports-coat combination, while Andrea was more or less dressed to the nines, even wearing a neck tie, while Wills had left that in England. But while Carl just tagged along as his partner, Wills acted as president of the Football Association and Andrea was showing his interest in behind the scenes going ons. Tatiana had chosen to remain with Andrea's sister Charlotte, not being interested enough in footie to try to keep a toddler quiet and entertained. 

The next man to draw was announced as national hero of Uruguay and former major player in the Spanish Primera Division, now coaching somewhere Wills didn't catch, as he was still busy contemplating the rest of the attendees. It was only when Carl nudged him into the side that he looked up. 

And blinked. 

Looked at his friend on his right and blinked again.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he murmured to his husband, who nodded, staring fascinated on stage where the chap was currently trying to open one of the little balls containing the paper slips determining which club would play which other. 

Another look at Andrea, who so far hadn't seemed to catch on, Wills bit his lip and got out his phone. Leaning to his right, he whispered into Andrea's ear, "He looks like you."

His friend looked at him sharply, then past him at Carl - who seemed to confirm the observation - and shook his head in denial. "He doesn't," he murmured back.

"So does," Wills said teasingly and called up the browser on his phone. Reception was low, but enough for key information and a few images. It was hard not to start whistling when he saw those, though, and he covertly passed his phone to Carl, whose brows shot up and his lips formed an 'oh'. "Not beneath his clothes, I'll grant you that," Wills meanwhile whispered to Andrea, who just frowned.

"My nose isn't so big. My hair is shorter."

"And you're not as well built as he is," Wills said and handed his phone over when he received it back, "he also is shorter than you. And older. But those details aside, the two of you are carbon copies. I'd like to see you standing next to one another at some point."

Andrea just glowered.

"Uruguay," Carl told him two days later on the drive back through the French countryside, "might have to keep that in mind. Maybe there's a replacement for all of us there."

Wills laughed and began mentioning a few details no replacement would ever get right. Carl eventually acknowledged that point, but insisted they at least keep track of that one bloke, saying he might one day provide leverage. Wills admittedly had no idea what his husband was getting at, but sometimes the little secrets they kept made things all the more interesting.

~*~

Little had he known that this trip to see their friends was the last one for a while and Wills thought he would have spent more quality time with them, more time rolling around with Carl in bed had he known this.

The call came three days before they were scheduled to leave for Australia, and Carl had gone visibly paler while talking to his sister. "My father's managed to break his leg in two or three places when stepping into a sinkhole," he had said. "I need to go."

Had Wills not been in direct line to the throne, he would have gone with him. As things stood, though, that was not an option, so they said goodbye at the airport. It turned out to be the right choice, because a day later it was evident that King Carl XVI Gustaf would not be back on his feet for a while and his standing, non-movable appointments had to be redistributed. Unfortunately, the King of Sweden had a lot of those and Carl's sisters and their husbands were unable to shoulder them all by themselves. Which meant Carl wouldn't be coming with him to Australia. And Wills didn't know if he'd be able to just leave his husband behind.

Bea had been recruited at the very last minute to act as Carl's replacement, and get some more hands-on training under her belt, but she was anything but elated to have to leave behind her own husband and act as the fall back option, either.

Of course there were headlines. The Australian's thought their future Prince Consort was shunning them, and that almost provoked an international incident, until Buckingham Palace and the Royal Palace of Stockholm put out a joined notice regarding Prince Carl Philip's current duties in Sweden due to the unfortunate accident of the Swedish King.

And for the first few days, that did seem to silence the press. That was good, as everyone needed the time to adjust; Bea to the simple fact that she was completely unprepared and desperately trying to catch up, Wills to suddenly finding himself with not only an unprepared companion, but also without the easy rapport he and Carl had developed on official appointments. He was missing Carl, badly. They called back and forth daily, calls always cutting into either sleep or work for one of them, but both of them were unwilling to refuse making them in the first place.

"Emm came by last night, she says hi." Carl sounded tired, and it was barely even noon for him. The constant press attention had to be wearing him down; even after all these years together he still disliked the press and he hated being their sole focus. Unless he was well fucked, but it wasn't like that was always possible - or in any way applicable now.

"Hi back, when you see her next time." The friendship Carl and Emma had maintained was something to envy, but Wills had long ago decided not to dwell on it and instead accept the friendship she was offering to him as well. "How are you doing?"

"Don't ask," Carl sighed, then switched his tone to gently chiding. "And don't worry. Vicky and Daniel are doing more. Pappa asked after you, I told him you were having fun with drop bears. He wasn't amused."

"I bet." His door snicked open and he craned his neck to see Bea smile at him, and waved her in. "Do they have an idea yet how long he'll be off his feet?"

"They're saying three months until he can get around all by himself again. Minimum. But we'll have rescheduled until then, I'll probably come back to Britain together with you."

Wills hummed with discontent. It was to be expected, but... "Take care of yourself, love."

"You, too. Call me in the morning?" Some energy was back in Carl's voice, and Wills had to smile while Bea seated herself at the couch across from him.

"You bet. Bye." He ended the call with a heavy heart, but there was no helping it. Instead, he tried to summon a smile for his cousin.

"Miss him, don't you?" she asked and leaned over the low table to pat his knee.

Shrugging, he leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Of course I do. You miss your husband too."

"Naturally. Wills... Remember when I told you I'd come to collect favours for putting me into this position?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm starting now."

That's how Prince William of Wales found himself in an open-all-night drugstore, buying a pregnancy test. It didn't help that the girl behind the counter obviously recognised him, making huge eyes and staring after him as he left. It wasn't made any easier by the fact that the store had an advanced security system and he was looking at himself in the tabloids late the next day.

The only thing that did help was that the test was at least positive, so it wasn't _him_ who had to explain this to their grandmother on the phone. "No, Gran, the test was for me, I swear," Bea said, then started smiling. "Yes, I'm very happy. ... Not yet, but I can probably do that here. ... No, I'd like to go back by ship, so if you could send him after we're done here? ... I realise it's a four week trip, but I don't want to fly long distance now. ... Yes, Gran."

His own phone rang, caller ID telling him it was Carl.

"Madde wants to do unspeakable things to your testicles," he was greeted as he let himself drop onto the sofa.

He sighed. "Bea's pregnant."

"Wills!" his cousin, by now having ended her will with the Queen, yelled at him.

"What should I tell him, that I've fathered a bastard?" he glowered at her, then to Carl, "Sorry. Bea's collecting favours, her security was off-duty and...she just wanted to be mean, I think."

He heard Carl sigh and thought it was like he could hear it without the phone, too. "Can't Buckingham Palace put out another notice?"

"No chance, not yet. But the headlines aren't exactly flattering." **'PRINCE PREGGERS'** was still was one of the harmless ones, **'Like Father, Like Son'** was much worse and it only went down from there. "You can't leave yet, can you?"

"I wish. I'll go placate Madde. Call your brother, I think there's more cooking back home. Love you." It sounded like Carl kissed the speaker, then ended the call.

Wills looked up and sighed. "Avalanche," he told Bea, but before she could respond, his phone rang again. Harry.

"Mate! Tell me you're not breaking up!" Harry practically screamed and Wills had to hold the handset away from his ear.

"We're not. However did you get that idea?" Surely, his brother of all people should know better. He'd been along to see Carl off at the airport, had seen them kiss goodbye. 

"Because the headlines speak of a _Princely Crisis_ and of the _Breakup of the Year_ , you're buying pregnancy tests and Carl is hooking up with his ex-girlfriend!" 

"He's not 'hooking up' with anyone, she's remained friends with him and his family. We spoke of her?" That Wills had to remins his brother... One should think that after 40 years of on and off small and big crises and scandals, the public relations staff of the English court was well versed in deflecting any and all accusations and be able to deal with whatever came their way. Truth was though, it seemed they grew more helpless with every year.

"Ah." Harry fell silent for a moment. "Then..."

"Nothing's changed between Carl and I," he stated, without doubt or hesitation and why did he have to justify himself in front of his brother anyway, when even his husband didn't demand that of him?

"That's good to know. The pregnancy test?"

He hesitated. "Not my place to tell."

"I see. Give my love to Bea, in that case. And you'll want to tell dad, too, because he's been gloating about how he's been saying from the start this wouldn't turn out well. He's not yet said anything to anyone who could misunderstand, but that might just be a matter of time." Harry had caught on to his father's sentiments about Carl years ago already, and since they had moved out he'd warned them when he knew things were getting to a head again. This situation though, it played right into their father's skewed perceptions. 

Wills cursed in four languages, and threw in a few Italian curses he had learned from Amedeo for good measure, making Bea look at him in shocked amusement. He simply didn't _want_ to talk to Charles right then.

"Yeah," his brother said mildly. "Listen, Wills, I need to go. Good luck."

Harry rang off and Wills opened his laptop, still cursing under his breath.

"You'd do any sailor justice," Bea remarked. "Trouble?"

"Dad," he simply said and started writing an overly polite message to his father regarding his his comments to other people about relationships that were not his own. "You learn a few things as a soldier."

"Obviously," she simply stated, but didn't comment any further.

The biggest annoyance was, Wills thought, that the only thing they could possibly do was sit around and wait for the fire to burn itself out. If either he or Carl commented on it, the press would simply think they were trying to placate them and cover up the problems they were having, if they didn't comment on it, it would be much the same. And neither of them was willing to pour even more fuel into the fire. Hopefully no one else would, either.

~*~

"Goodbye, William," Carl said, with his head held high, but Wills could see that he didn't take it as lightly as his tone suggested. He wouldn't be. Wills felt the lump in his own throat, was unable to speak when Carl turned around and started walking towards the car waiting for him.

It hadn't been meant to be. They'd not made it work.

The lump was growing, cutting off his air supply. He was trying to breath in-

-and sat up gasping for breath, coughing, drowning... Hyperventilating, only calming down in incremental stages he sat in the dark for several minutes, everything focused on breathing. Wills closed his eyes and exhaled, forehead resting on his bent knees. A dream he hadn't had in a long while, not since the very first months of their marriage.

When they had only been out to their relatives, and even before that, it had always been an option that they would not make it after all, that they would be forbidden to stay together, or that one of them simply wouldn't be able to endure the pressure. During their honeymoon and pressed closed to him, Carl had once confided to him that the mere idea of Wills leaving him used to scare him so much he wouldn't even theorise about it. Wills knew now he had not been alone in his fears, but suspected that it had been a far more real concern for him.

Unfortunately, snuggling close to his husband wasn't an option now, like it had been all those other times, so he kept sitting in the dark and tried to calm down enough to go back to sleep.

His mobile went off and he grabbed it blindly, not checking the display before answering, "Yes?"

"Sorry for waking you," Carl said into his ear, sounding near enough to give Wills the illusion of physical closeness, and he let himself fall back into the pillows.

"Carl." Sighing, he pulled the comforter with him, but didn't dare snuggle into the residual warmth his body had left. They were often calling late, but never quite this late. "You didn't wake me, I...was up."

Carl made a sound plainly stating how displeased he was with that answer, but didn't press for a more elaborate one. "Maybe I should call you again tomorrow morning?"

"No. Whatever it is, out with it. I'd prefer good news, but I'm taking anything I can get." It was more than a week after the incident with the pregnancy test, and the media was still making waves. Less so in Sweden, Carl was saying, but they were more concerned about the state of their King anyway. And about having all three Bernadotte siblings playing equal parts, for once.

"Vicky laid heavily into your father, just now," Carl said and sounded immensely satisfied.

Blinking, Wills propped himself up on one elbow, disbelieving. "Excuse me, what? Why?"

"He had some inauguration or other in Scotland, and one of the press attendees asked about us, about what you were planning to do now." 

"That doesn't bode well." He had an ominous feeling about this. When Charles was King, they would have to spend some time outside the country. If they'd had a choice, he was sure they'd have opted for Sweden or Monaco, even Luxembourg would have been feasible, but as things were, they would have to chose a Commonwealth state, the kingdom being too immediate in reach. That, in turn, would mean a lot of flights for appointments and to see their friends, but when the alternative was more or less constant harassment and verbal pinpricks against their marriage, they'd gladly deal with it.

"Mhh. He was quoted as saying he wouldn't put stones into your way," Carl sounded angry and it was such a slap in the face, Wills could hardly believe it.

"You can't be serious," he said incredulously.

"Sadly. Anyway, Vicky saw it and she had a long, direct, all out discussion with him on the phone. You know, from one heir to the other. I couldn't help but listen, of course." Cat who got the cream, and Wills had to smile despite himself, wanted to lick the cream from his mouth.

"Of course you couldn't," he echoed and lay back down. "Did it work, you think?"

"You know your father better than I, love." Of course it hadn't. Maybe for a few days at a time, and only because Vicky was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, but not in the long run. "But it was immensely good to hear."

Wills chuckled, then sighed. "Tell me something else." Now he did dare get comfortable again.

"It's three o'clock in the morning there, you should be sleeping," his husband admonished gently.

"You're not here, let me at least hear your voice a little longer." It was probably petulant and selfish to say this, and it was only the end of the second week, but he was neither used to sleeping alone, nor did he want to get used to it. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too." There was a slight hesitation, like Carl was groping for something to talk about, then pitched his voice low, obviously aiming at lulling Wills back to sleep. Sometimes, it actually worked. "I think Tatiana is really pregnant."

"Hm, how so?" No one in their right mind would announce a pregnancy before the third month was up, and Tatiana had looked not in the least pregnant when they'd been visiting. Aside from the alcohol abstinence, there had been no evidence whatsoever.

"Nothing in particular, Andrea's just being weird when he calls," Carl said dismissively. They talked a little more, until Wills finally did fall asleep, the illusion of closeness doing its own part.

~*~

"Hey Wills," Amedeo's voice said into his ear, "it's eight in the morning here, which probably means you're still being princely somewhere down under. I just called to ask if you were doing okay. Give me a ring if and when you feel like it. Oh and a bit of advice from someone who's been exiled to the Pacific rim before? Make sure you don't have to attend any official events for a few days afterwards. And get a door that locks behind you. Take care."

The last few sentences had clearly been said with a smirk on his lips, and Wills shook his head. The sad thing was, Amedeo probably was right. Wills would freely admit he not only missed having Carl in bed next to him but also what they did there and these weeks were exhausting on so many levels, he just wanted his husband back and never leave the bedroom again. 

The next message was from Andrea.

"Wills, you know we're roughly on the same page where the whole idea of duty is concerned, but you need to get your royal behind back to where there be no dragons. Carl is missing you like crazy and the press attention isn't helping." Pause. "Now, if you'd want me to go and keep him company until Europe beckons again, that'd be a different matter altogether," his friend added suggestively and had rung off. 

Sighing, Wills put the phone on the low couch table in yet another generic hotel suite. A few more days, he told himself, just a few more days. 

Snatching the gadget up again, he hit speed dial. The call went straight to voice mail.

"It's me," he said, but didn't know how to continue. After several seconds, he exhaled and shook his head. "Never mind, I'll try again later. Love you."

He leaned back into the cushions, letting the handset rest on his chest.

Unfortunately, the ceiling didn't yield any wisdom.

So tired. He was so unbelievably tired of the current situation. Closing his eyes, he wished for it to be a few days later already.

~*~

William had put Bea and her newly arrived husband on a cruise ship at the end of their tour, and was glad of it. Overall, they had been well received, despite their trip being overshadowed by the still raging headlines. By the time they had booked the cruise for her, he had rescheduled his own flight back to London to go to Stockholm instead. He was sick of not being with Carl, and he wasn't interested in meeting anyone back home, least of all his father, before having even so much as seen his husband in a month.

He just hoped Carl was still using the Stockholm flat, rather than having relocated to Drottningholm, because if he'd done so, Wills would be spending his first night back on European soil either in another empty bed or trekking from one royal residence to the next.

It turned out he hadn't needed to worry; faint sounds of explosions were coming through the door, which meant Carl was home, watching telly or a DVD or what have you. Wills breathed a sigh of relief and debated whether to ring the door bell or use his key, but ultimately decided to to announce himself, rather than just show up at his husband's side. There were times for pleasant surprises like that, but after the last four weeks all he wanted was to be in Carl's arms, not make him jump through the roof.

The door only opened after a good minute and several rings, and for a long second, Carl simply stared at him, seemingly convinced he was hallucinating. "You've got a key!" he finally said, sounding incredulous.

"I didn't want to startle you," Wills responded tiredly, then smirked. "Thought you needed fair warning to stash your affair in the closet."

His husband snorted. "Idiot. Come here already." He quickly closed the distance between them and pulled Wills down to him, tongue urgently pushing into his mouth with a little sound indicating all kinds of hurry. There was not much space in the doorway and Wills seriously debated with himself if he should just push Carl against a wall out in the hallway. But propriety won out in the end and he managed to manoeuvre them into the flat and kick the door shut behind them. "Missed you," Carl's words were muffled by the kiss as he zipped his coat open and stripped it off his shoulders.

"Missed _you_ ," he responded between one breath and the next, still standing in front of the door, still kissing hungrily. But not for long, as Carl was pulling him forward by his clothes, making for the bedroom. As they passed the living room, Wills caught motion on mute on the screen and a partly assembled shelf on the floor. Maybe Carl had done some redecorating or he had finally decided he needed a display case for his smaller design items. 

They couldn't stop kissing, so it made for slow progress along the hallway. "In a bad movie I'd have caught you snuggled up to someone else on the couch," he gasped as Carl gave him a shove and he was the one ending up against the wall and Carl latched onto his throat to suck blood to the surface, while his fingers worked to unbutton William's shirt. There was a sound of dismay when he found the t-shirt underneath instead of skin. But Wills had known he was flying into Swedish winter and had dressed accordingly.

"Well, good thing this isn't a bad movie, then," Carl murmured against his skin and roughly removed his shirt and started to work on his belt. Wills used the second when his husband left off his throat to pull sweater and t-shirt over his head, exposing Carl's upper body to him. His hands were on his husband's heated skin and the sounds escaping Carl only encouraged him further. 

"Ah," he gasped again when Carl licked over the sensitised spot on his throat and his hands wandered to Carl's back to pull him even closer. "But then," he swallowed, tried again, "but then you'd have to make all these epic vows of love to assure me it wasn't what it looked like."

Carl left off him, took a half step out of their embrace and looked at him frowning, but retaining contact by having both hands placed on his hips, _inside_ his trousers. "You're not about to discuss the immutability of my love, are you?"

"No." Smiling down at him, Wills took his husband's face between his hands and licked his lips open, kissing deeply when Carl let him in. The frown dissipated and his husband pressed closer again, pulling gently to get them moving once more. Getting out of their trousers proved to be an obstacle to continuing the kiss, but not one that could stop them.

He didn't have an accurate recollection of how they had ended up on the bed in the end, but the only important thing was they did so, anyway. "Please tell me we left lube last time we were here," Wills whispered against Carl's belly, placing kisses and nips downwards.

Carl shifted beneath him and stretched towards the night stand, and Wills used the movement to give due attention to where he wanted to do it anyway and heard his husband inhale sharply. William would have grinned if he hadn't been otherwise engaged, but scraped his teeth lightly against sensitive skin, felt Carl shiver in an attempt to hold still. He released him and nipped softly at the tender skin of his scrotum, eliciting a yelp that faded into a drawn out moan. "Well?"

Carl made a sound that could be interpreted either way and Wills patiently rested his chin on his husband's hip and looked up to him. He'd waited four weeks and when he could reduce Carl to incoherence, he was well willing to wait a few more minutes. "Carl?" he called softly and licked the skin right in front of him, only to blow air over it a second later and make him squirm even more.

"Bastard," Carl panted and reached to draw him up, but Wills refused in order to lick Carl's cock from root to crown, which elicited sounds bordering desperation. 

"No," he said softly, lips playing over skin and making Carl squirm and moan even more, "there's no doubt as to my legitimacy." He kissed the crown and looked into his eyes. "Lube?"

"Uh," Carl swallowed, visibly struggling for words, and reached for him again, and this time Wills followed the demand and pushed himself up on the bed and kissed him, eyes closed and revelling in the closeness. "The fruity stuff Andrea sent us," Carl eventually murmured against his mouth, never quite stopping to kiss.

"Strawberry fruity or indescribable fruity?" Andrea must have sent them any kind of sex toy and other gimmicks known to man by now, and still managed to come up with new items. Everything from toys and lube, to special-edition-condoms and fetish gear, on a monthly basis. Kissing Wills again, Carl rolled them around to put himself on top and reached for the night stand again.

"Indescribable fruity," he said and produced the bottle, waggling it in front of William's face and brushed their noses together. "Want to change your mind?"

"No way," he answered and let a slight growl into his voice before closing the distance between them and working one thigh between Carl's legs, which almost made his husband lose his balance. Carl broke the kiss chuckling and sat slowly back on his haunches, trailing kisses down William's body, placing the last on his one bent knee.

He opened the bottle, said, "I missed you so much," but didn't give Wills an opportunity to answer in kind, as then his lube-wet hand dropped between his legs.

Several hours later, after a shower and a nap, Wills was still enjoying the warmth radiating off Carl, the feeling of having the one he needed back at his side. He sighed as one kiss slid into another and brought his hand up to tangle it into Carl's hair and change the angle of their kiss. They shifted together and he ended up lying half on top of his husband, with just enough contact along the length of them to keep things interesting, but not heated.

They drew apart to look at each other for a long moment in the twilight, then Carl lifted his head and placed one more, infinitely gentle and careful kiss on his lips. "What was that for?" he asked in an almost whisper and stroked stray strands of hair out of his husband's face. Carl was starting to grey a little at the temples, and a few silver hairs were starting to show on top of his head as well, but there was nothing wrong with that. They could not eternally remain thirty, nor would they want to.

"Just for being here," Carl answered just as quietly, "and because I love you." Hands settled low on his back, caressing gently along each distinct muscle, just firm enough not to tickle. A kiss was dropped on his shoulder.

"I love you, too." He settled down, keeping just enough weight off Carl to keep him comfortable, and buried his face against his husband's neck. The caresses kept up, trailed along his spine and back down, until Carl started chuckling, when they stilled and the hold on him tightened a little. "What's funny?"

"I was just thinking, what will the press do when you show up back home with a large hickey blooming on your throat?"

Wills frowned. "Well, you're coming with me, aren't you?" When nothing was forthcoming for a moment, he shifted and brought his leg into a more suggestive position. "Carl?"

"I'm coming with you," he assured him. "I'll still have to come here regularly though. Once a week, for a day or two. There's just not enough of us."

Humming, Wills pressed an affectionate kiss to his throat and nuzzled the underside of his jaw. "Anything I can do to help?"

It was a role-reversal of sorts. Because Wills didn't hold any titles in Sweden himself, Carl was the one who had to do the major interacting and engaging and he had to stand back. It was, essentially, Carl's role in Britain, although there he did the occasional appointment by himself these days. 

Carl let out a long breath. "You're welcome to accompany me to any appointments that don't interfere with anything back home," he said, then something seemed to occur to him. "My schedule needs some restructuring. I guess you can do our joint appearances alone if need be, and my own I can push back. Not ideal, though, it was just going so nicely."

By now, Wills had raised his head and licked and nibbled at Carl's lips, kissed him for a little while when he let him in. "It'll work out. I'll come with you, when I can. But when you come back home on the same plane as me, surely everyone will think you made this." At that he licked at the same spot Carl had marked him at and his husband arched his head back to expose his throat further. Highly tactile; Wills was satisfied and gently scraped his teeth along that spot, getting a shiver and a quickening of breath for his trouble.

Carl licked his lips, swallowed. "Ah, but you left that pregnant mistress in Australia. Surely, she could have left you with a souvenir."

Sharply nipping at a collarbone as silent punishment, Wills decided to make doubly sure what he thought of the mere idea did it again for good measure, drawing a moan out of Carl, before reaching for the lube and bringing a hand down between them.

"I'll give you a souvenir," he murmured into another deep kiss, before they didn't say anything much for a while yet again.

~*~

Several weeks passed, and there were days when Wills didn't know in the morning if he would be lying next to Carl the following night or not. Several last minute appointments came up in Sweden, there were complications at the farm that Carl wouldn't or couldn't elaborate on or explain, and on top of everything, both of Madde's children came down with chicken pox.

There were dinners with Charles and Harry and Alex Carl couldn't make and the looks and pointed remarks from his father almost drove Wills into starting a fight. Almost, because he knew that it would lead nowhere but to more tension, and that wouldn't help Carl any. Instead, he tried to juggle his own appointments and his flying assignments around a little to spend as much time with his husband as possible - in England or Sweden.

Late one night in the last week of November, Wills woke up with a start and groped for his mobile. Almost one in the morning, he'd barely been asleep for two hours. He would have burrowed right back into his pillows, because with Carl out of the country there was no reason to be awake in the dead of night, if not for the unidentified sound coming from the front rooms. Normally, he might have assumed the rounds of the RPD men, but they didn't come into the apartments unless they suspected imminent danger to their charges, so that was out.

Maybe Harry had been kicked out again and needed a place for the night. Sighing, Wills pulled a sweater over his pyjamas - winter left the British royal palaces cold and uncomfortable despite renovations and insulation - and shuffled towards the door. Light was on in the kitchen, and he had expected many things, but not finding Carl in the middle of a very late dinner.

His husband looked up and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Sandwich?" he asked and offered a plate almost half-ravished already.

There were a lot of things he could have said in response, starting with why Carl was there at all, when he wasn't supposed to be back for another three days at the least, but none of it took precedence. Not compared with what was in front of his eyes. "Why are you sitting on our kitchen floor?"

Carl set the plate down and drew his legs up to rest his outstretched arms on them. "It's closer to the fridge than the table?"

Snorting, Wills rolled his eyes and crouched down to turn his husband's head towards him and drop a kiss on his lips. "Missed dinner?"

"And lunch," Carl confirmed and stroked the backs of his fingers over William's cheek, before leaning in for another lingering kiss. "It was a long day."

Wills hummed and got up to open the fridge and get out the milk. "Is that why you're here?"

"They took pity on me and sent me home early...I think I was a millstone around their necks." He took up another sandwich and leaned his head back against the cupboard doors when Wills dropped down next to him with milk and a chocolate bar. "Cravings?"

"Relax, you didn't get me pregnant." He sipped at his milk. "So that's how we end up on the kitchen floor," Wills contemplated, shoulder brushing Carl's.

"You say that as if it's something reprehensible."

"Just not the circumstances I was expecting," Wills murmured into the chocolate and got an amused glance for his troubles, knowing exactly that Carl was thinking if they would have done this, it would have been ten years ago, when they weren't almost 40. "Andrea called yesterday."

"So?"

"What do you think about New Year's in Scotland?" Their own private little getaway, near a tiny Highland village, half of their cottage gifted to them by the Queen. Most important when they couldn't leave the kingdom, but London was getting to them. Something their own, not part of the Crown Estate and not too close to any other family property.

Carl blinked before a frown spread on his face. "Did you tell him we were going to Scotland?"

"Of course not," Wills answered and offered his milk when Carl finished the last sandwich, only to lean in and lick the residual droplet off his lips. Chuckling, his husband turned it into a proper kiss, one hand coming up to tangle fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull Wills closer. When the kiss ended, he rested their foreheads together, his hand in turn resting on Carl's chest. "I missed you."

A low sound of agreement came from Carl. "I'm counting the days until Christmas and resting court proceedings. So, Scotland? What's with the little one?"

"Is spending New Year's with his grandma this year."

"Andrea is going to freeze his arse off," Carl contemplated.

"That seems possible," Wills concurred. It wasn't like Andrea hadn't survived Scotland before, although that had never been winter visits. He probably didn't even know that there was such a thing as snow up there. Still, they had central heating and plenty of blankets. And indoor plumbing.

Carl pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, giving him a lopsided smile. "You get to deal with him when he crawls into bed with us."

"He's got Tatiana to snuggle up to." Wills shrugged and pushed himself up, reached one hand down to Carl to pull him upright as well.

One eyebrow raised, Carl placed the empty plate and glass in the sink. "And you think she'll let him press his cold nose into her neck? Have you met her?"

Andrea would just have to deal, Wills decided. They both were no strangers to spending nights in the same bed as Andrea, but no matter how close their friendship, them ending up like that would be weird. It also ruined any possibility of lazy morning sex with his husband. Not to mention that Guillaume, who also would come with them along with Amedeo, would keel over dead were he ever to find out about certain details. And the three of them all snuggled up together in bed - while an aesthetically pleasing image - might just be a dead giveaway.

~*~

The trouble with the media was not letting up. No matter if Carl managed to be in England for a week, or Wills could accompany him two full weeks running, there was still speculation. And he didn't get it. Granted, they were apart a lot, simply due to the fact that he had his own duties that were completely disconnected from his husband's family and couldn't just put on hold, and Carl was in his home country a lot, but that was due to circumstances. When they were together and handled appointments together or went out - which they still did, if they could manage, and with pleasure - they didn't act any differently than prior to the Australian tour gone haywire.

The annual Nobel Prize Ceremony was, if not exactly fun, then at least five years into their marriage still novel enough to hold William's interest. Their wedding had changed nothing about Carl's apparent annual boredom though, and Madde had quickly conscripted her new brother-in-law to keep him entertained.

While Wills was not officially a member of the Swedish Royal Family, Carl still was and as his husband, he enjoyed most of the privileges, but also shared the biggest part of the obligations. This also meant, as Madde had realised, keeping Carl in line. Which wasn't easy, because the man had sat in this ceremony every year for over twenty of them and the appeal had long ceased for him. If it ever had been there in the first place.

As the King of Sweden would be absent this year due to his injury - no one wanted to risk relapse from over-exertion - Crown Princess Victoria would award the prizes, which meant extra attention was being paid to her and her siblings. Which meant everyone had to be on their best behaviour.

Decked out in his Swedish Seraphim order, Wills looked at himself in the mirror one last time, adjusted the Garter star - Carl refused to be made a royal knight of the order before Wills was on the throne, probably due to the annual Garter day - on the breast of his tailcoat before turning around to Carl, who was still fiddling with his sash. "Twenty years, and you still get it rumpled," he sighed and stepped up to him, straightened the velvety ribbon and adjusted his husband's neck tie. "Now, move as little as possible."

Carl threw him an acid look, which softened when Wills leaned in for a kiss to make up for the command tone. "You're one to talk."

"Your sister should order the collar, you can't rumple that. And you look hot in it." Wills kissed him again. "If you promise to be good today, I'll promise you we'll spend the next three days in bed and will only get up for food and bathroom runs. In the country." He added the last for good measure, because he knew it would relax Carl and it would give them a little space to breath.

Carl inhaled sharply, then sighed and his breath rushed over William's lips. "As if we can make that kind of time."

"We can," he answered and raised both arms, careful not to ruin his efforts at making them presentable, and placed them around Carl's neck to emphasize his point. "I already did. A promise is a promise."

They shared one more kiss, a little more heated and laced with a smile from his husband. There should not have been any downtime for them until Christmas, but since Madeleine's children were healthy again and two of her appointments in New York had fallen through, and Wills still wasn't back to SAR duty, he had made the executive decision to have the time and rope in his sister-in-law. Quite aside from the ceremony ahead, they simply needed the downtime for themselves. Not so much for their relationship - he was convinced they could weather anything that was thrown at them - but simply for getting some rest and some proper food at regular intervals and, yes, some decent cuddling that wasn't snatched between dawn and alarm clocks going off. Or between alarm clocks going off and absolutely having to get up, at this time of the year. If that.

"Come on, then, let's distribute some prices today," Carl sighed and extricated himself from their embrace.

Carl indeed was well-behaved during the ceremony, although he always shifted a little uncomfortably whenever he looked over, which made Wills smirk, and he just hoped the cameras hadn't caught it. The banquet was the usual affair, they were seated across from one another, but both of them had been assigned with the only two female Prize recipients, who wanted to talk about anything but their achievements, which was just fine with Wills.

They had come back to Drottningholm halfway through the night, slightly drunk. The fact that the prize winners, especially the women, could hold their liquor so well was something that surprised Wills every year anew. All of that didn't keep Carl from waking him before the alarm on his mobile went off, which didn't happen often.

Wills pressed his eyes closed, grimaced and reached out to draw his husband closer and buried his face against his collar bone. "We can _sleep_ ," he complained.

"You promised me three days in bed," Carl reminded him, chuckling quietly.

"We are in bed," he pointed out and tightened his hold when Carl made to move away again. "How can you be so energetic this early when we spent half the night getting drunk with Suddenly Famous People?"

Carl kissed the top of his head, then slid one hand down to let his fingertips and the backs of his nails ghost over William's side. Shivering with budding pleasure, Wills nipped sharply at Carl 's throat, but still didn't open his eyes. He wanted half an hour more sleep. Carl yelped slightly and let his open palm rest on his hip. "In the cottage. You promised. And we weren't drunk."

Sighing, Wills finally looked up at him in the incomplete darkness of the room. "I promised," he conceded, but shifted his weight enough to keep Carl pinned to the mattress. "But I'm not getting on a five hour car trip on icy Swedish roads in the middle of December before dawn. Not even with you." When Carl made to wriggle out from under him - which undoubtedly would have given Wills the opportunity for another little nap, but he knew what this would lead to - he increased the pressure and let a growl sound low in his throat. "If you're going to the garage _now_ , you're spending the next three days on the sofa."

"But-"

Wills raised his eyes again, then quirked one eyebrow, daring Carl to protest for real.

After a split second hesitation, Carl settled back into pillows, drawing the blankets around them and returned the embrace. "The things I do for you."

"Never say I don't make it worth your while," Wills said and snuggled into the warmth of his husband's arms again.

"Oh, you do," Carl said and nipped softly at the skin behind his ear. "It's not like I'd do it for anyone else."

They had three glorious days with enough sleep and meals that weren't wolfed down hastily between one appointment and the next or taken in strained silence. The sex wasn't to be disregarded, of course, but with appointments looming for Carl in Sweden the next two weeks and Wills having taken over wrapping up both their charities on the isles for the year, they'd both be busy beyond belief. So Wills relished the time they were given now, sleeping, simply holding Carl in his arms, skin to skin, talking quietly about things of little to no consequence.

He knew this was just a very brief period of rest and they'd be back to work and to being temporarily separated from one another all too early. But those were thoughts for another time.

On the morning of the third day, Carl was just trailing tiny kisses up his spine and pale winter sunshine was streaming in through the window, a phone rang on the night stand. Normally he'd let it ring, but it was the trade off for their days away, the promise to constantly be available. Wills didn't stop to check the display, or even find out of it was his own phone, and put the handset to his ear. "Hmrpf."

Maybe that could have been more articulate. He felt Carl snort against his back before his husband sat up, only to let his hands trail lightly over William's skin.

"Did you two fall off the map?" Andrea accused with an amused tone in his voice.

"Nah," Wills answered and turned on the speaker on the phone - his own - so they both could hear, then placed it on the bed next to him. "Last time I checked, Värmland was a duchy in Sweden."

"Naturally," Andrea allowed and when Carl recognised their friend, he bent down to place a kiss on William's shoulder blade and slid off so they both could talk comfortably. "So I take it I'm interrupting something but there's no good time to call without doing that?"

"Unless you want to try your luck tomorrow," Carl said amiably and reached out a hand to tease the pad of one finger along William's hip bone.

"Well, I _was_ hoping to get both of you, so this is convenient enough for me. But please, don't let me get in the way, I'll be right here when you're done," their friend said in his trademark drawl.

Wills would have laughed, but it turned into a little breathless, grinning gasp of Andrea's name when Carl's hand dipped towards his belly and he could do nothing but glower at his husband. "Why did you call again?"

"No, by all means, keep going," Andrea now laughed outright, but Wills had no problems imagining he was recording every second of this.

"The thrill's gone when you say it like that," Carl sighed and pushed his hand up over flank and chest, then let it travel along William's arm, only to pull his hand to him and kiss his fingers. "So?"

"I think the girls might be conspiring against us."

They took a moment to digest this and exchanged a glance. "Come again?" Wills finally asked.

"My sister, your cousin, Wills, and the Danish Nathalie are planning an equestrian competition under royal patronage," Andrea said almost too fast for Wills to make out the individual words.

"Nathalie's not Danish," was all Carl seemed to be able to muster, then rolled his eyes. When their eyes met, he shrugged.

"That bit of geography really doesn't make much of a difference," their friend returned.

"Be that as it may," Wills interjected and cleared his throat. "That's a good thing, isn't it? We get a get-together out of it, official and all, no weird looks, and it's good press. Quite aside from providing further career options."

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, and Carl shook his head at him. "It's evident you haven't grown up with sisters, William my lad. Imagine they remember Madeleine used to do show jumping as well. Girls _talk_ , Wills."

"Ignore him," Carl said to Andrea but leaned over for a kiss, tongue pushing into his mouth and for a moment, Wills ignored the fact that they had an audience.

Making discreet coughing noises, Andrea interrupted them just as Wills had his arm around Carl and was pulling him onto himself, feeling weight and pressure in all the right places. "I'll leave you to whatever it is you're doing, then. But if you find yourself with far too meaningful glances or lugging water buckets around, don't come to me to complain, I tried to warn you."

Carl chuckled against his mouth, but Wills drew away. "What's his problem anyway?"

"You'll see soon enough." Carl bent down to nibble at his bottom lip. "But there's nothing we can do to fight the forces of nature. So let's just make the most of life, until the world as we know it comes to an end."

Wills laughed quietly at his stage tone. He still didn't know what Andrea had been trying to tell them, but he was quite willing to set finding out aside in favour of kissing his husband. At least until he rolled them again and was just letting his hand travel low enough to make things interested when he saw the display of his phone still illuminated. Stilling his movements, which got him a frustrated sound from Carl and a little buck in search of contact, he sighed and spoke up, "Andrea?"

His husband just raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Ah...yes?" their friend's voice sounded from the handset.

Carl started laughing silently but couldn't quite keep from shaking with it, while Wills dropped his head on his husbands shoulder. "Hang up."

"Oh Wills, come on," Andrea almost pleaded, but couldn't help chuckling either.

"Goodbye, Andrea." Wills reached out and ended the call himself, before turning his attentions back to Carl. "Now, where were we?"

"Do you really think he...?" Carl asked and let his legs drop open willingly enough.

"Oh, yes. And Guillaume would have gotten an earful tonight." That might have been almost worth it. Almost being the operative word, and he could see Carl flush as Wills worked his way downwards with little nips and kisses at strategic places.

And then there was not much thinking for a while.

~*~

After ten more exhausting days, both of them were more than glad when Christmas rolled around, offering quiet days until after the new year had started, and a chance to breathe. To save them from having to go back and forth yet again, they'd decided to spend the holidays exclusively in England for once. Amedeo had asked back in October already if they could could spend the turn of the year, and with Andrea and Tatiana joining them, it would be a merry round. Wills suspected that Amedeo was forcing a few days off on Guillaume and thought that was better done away from the continent.

As things stood, they all could use a few quiet days away from work and other obligations.

Not that Christmas itself was entirely quiet, as Christmas day entailed church and a formal dinner in black tie attire, but it was just with family, press wasn't in attendance and despite formal wear, everyone got a chance to relax.

They spent Christmas at Sandringham with the cousins and the kids, and everyone cooing over Bea (after the rest of the family had _finally_ found out what the whole pregnancy test hype had been about, not before giving him quite a few disapproving looks) and giving his father an as wide berth as possible. A semblance of enough sleep was to be had, neither of them was living an hour ahead of the other all the time, although in the first few days that resulted in interesting early-morning-panic-reactions due to perceived oversleeping. But that at least gave them a chance at some undisturbed time together with no one else awake.

When they were being driven back a couple of days later, and Wills sat on the back seat with a classic science fiction novel in one hand and Carl's right firmly clasped in his other, the holidays had done a lot of settle them back into calmer waters. The only sounds on the short drive was the occasional whispering of a page, but neither of them minded. For the moment, it was enough for them to be together.

A mobile rang and Carl sighed, extracted his hand from William's and went fishing for it in his back pocket. He frowned at the display, but took the call and said in Swedish, "Yes? ... I see. ... No, I understand. ... Okay. ... Yeah, bye." And sighed again.

"What's wrong?" Wills asked and closed the book over one finger.

Carl just made a dismissive gesture, tossed his own book on the seat between them and rubbed his eyes. "Nothing. Things at the farm. I'll look into it again when I'm there again the week after next. I'll be glad when Pappa is back on his feet." He sounded thoroughly frustrated and wanted to take his hand again, but Wills retracted it.

"Why do you never say what's the matter there?"

"Because it really is of no importance, Wills." That wasn't quite true. While Carl certainly didn't strictly _need_ the income he had from the farm - and with the renovations only fully finished a couple of years ago it probably still was in the red anyway - the place mattered to him a lot and they'd spent many a working weekend there and it was obvious that he enjoyed it immensely.

Frowning, Wills looked at him. "That's not true. Seriously, Carl. I know you better than that. If you don't tell me I can't even begin to help you."

But his husband just shook his head. "You can't help there. I don't even know what exactly is wrong, how should you? I'll look into it, I said."

"Carl-"

"Wills, I'm serious," he was cut off, a hint of warning in Carl's voice, and he knew if he pushed further now...

"But-," he tried anyway.

Carl turned to look at him, eyes angry. "What do you want to hear? Do you want to know about bleeding cows and mid-term aborted calves? Well, too bad for you, I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think of it, come to that. Bloody hell." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and hunched deeper into the seat, staring out the window.

That was the point when Wills knew things were much harder on Carl than his husband would let on. Because while the imagery wasn't pleasant, it was not something that would have thrown him for a loop quite this bad, usually. "I'm sor-"

"Spare me; I know," Carl grumbled, but still wouldn't look at him.

Wills sighed and waited a few minutes, eyes never leaving Carl who continued to stare outside, probably without seeing much of the streets they were passing. Not long now and they'd be back at York House. "Carl," he tried eventually and reached out to touch his husband's arm. When no reaction was forthcoming, he patted his shoulder a few times but let his hand drop away, to not aggravate the mood between them further.

Once at home, Carl hardly waited until the car had come to a halt before opening the door and making for the entrance. Wills sighed and slowly opened his own door, and got out in time with their driver, who raised his eyebrows and shot him a meaningful look.

"What?" Wills asked tiredly, but realised that the glass pane separating the car into the front and back had stayed down the whole drive.

But the man was too accustomed to his princes' antics to be roused to much more than, "Nothing, Sir," and a stony, unreadable expression.

Shaking his head, Wills made his way inside slowly, to give Carl time and a little space. That was a problem with their status and with everyone recognising them; if they needed some distance it was hard to get. He eventually found his husband in the kitchen, glass of juice in one hand and looking up when Wills entered. 

"Hey," he ventured to test the waters. Carl could always ignore him.

But Carl set the glass down and gave him the ghost of a smile. "Hi," he said back, didn't push away from the counter, though.

Exhaling, Wills closed his eyes briefly, wondering if Carl would let him say it now. "I'm sorry," he offered quietly.

Cocking his head, Carl pressed his lips together before shrugging. "I know. It's not your fault."

"No, but that doesn't make it better." Nothing made it better, and there was indeed nothing either of them could probably do, and they both knew it. Which did absolutely nothing to resolve the situation. So Wills tried to venture a little further and went up to the counter to position himself in front of his husband.

And went down on one knee.

The startled look Carl shot him spoke volumes, so Wills grinned up at him, looked as pleadingly at his husband as he was able to summon up and sighed, "Forgive me?"

"Oh you..." Carl laughed and bent down to quickly kiss him. "Nothing to forgive. And I already married you." He added this chuckling and placed another kiss on his lips. "Up with you."

It was good, Wills mused, that Carl understood the significance of the situation; after all, there had not been so much as a proposal, let alone anyone going down on one knee when they had decided to marry. He straightened and the next instant his very own Swedish prince moved into his arms and there was a long time when they just held each other. And right then, Wills didn't even want to start thinking beyond the moment. Instead, he just held his husband tighter, neither willing nor quite able to let go.

~*~

It always was a balancing act when their royal friends came to visit. Carl's family was not much of a problem, they _were_ family after all, Andrea and Tatiana weren't faced with any obstacles either, because while Andrea had adopted his dynasty's surname by now, he still was not the Hereditary Prince and didn't warrant an official welcome, yet. Guillaume and Amedeo, and all the other heir apparents, were a whole other matter though, and they always had to juggle things to ensure everyone got the message that these visits were of private nature, not official.

But at least now, between the years when court proceedings were resting, not even his grandmother could be bothered to insist on treating a holiday visit as a state act. William's father, while not exactly having given up on trying, didn't usually bother with Nassaus or Grimaldis.

A knock sounded at the door to their apartment and Wills closed the book with a sigh; he really liked those two, but the plot was just starting to resolve. "Carl?" he called loudly and got off the bed. His husband stepped out of the open bathroom door, towel around his hips and Wills was silently glad he had bothered with that much, something did not usually do. Maybe propriety had won out, considering it was Guillaume coming to visit. "Get going," Wills said after appreciating the sight of him for a moment and hearing the second, rather more insistent knock.

Carl rolled his eyes as he got out a pair of shorts and jeans, but left them on the dresser in favour of pulling him close by slinging an arm around his waist. "Go already," he said contradictory to his actions, smirking at William's roving eyes, "I'll need a minute more. You can look tonight."

With another sigh, Wills dropped a kiss on Carl's lips before he was let go and made for the other room. Opening the door, he stared into the impassive face of one of their usual guards, the one more familiar, although he never managed to remember the name. "Your visitors, Sir?"

Carl came up behind him, and from William's peripheral vision he saw him rake his hands through his still-damp hair to keep it from falling into his face. "Hi Mike," he greeted and Wills was momentarily confused, until he saw the security nod at him and almost-smile.

"Sir. Your visitors have arrived." Only then did he give the way free to allow Guillaume - looking a little too pale and clearing his throat, still feeling the flu from the past few weeks - and Amedeo to step into the flat as well.

"William," Guillaume said courtly and shook his hand, still insisting on his full name even after all these years. Always proper, in slacks and dress coat (but at least no tie, today), always overly correct and it almost made Wills sigh in slight exasperation. He was already seeing another one of their serious talks coming towards him.

Amedeo was different. While Guillaume greeted Carl, obviously still not able to call him that either but using both names, Wills was caught in a brief hug and the ghost of a kiss was pressed on his cheek. "Thanks for having us," Amedeo said quietly, too quiet for his husband to hear and Wills raised both eyebrows in silent question. But his friend just shrugged. "You know how he is."

"One day we'll have him at a point where he'll be relaxed, at least when it's just us." He shook his head. Guillaume was _the_ poster child for a case of burnout waiting to happen, they were all just waiting for it, barely daring to breathe. How Amedeo lived with it was a mystery to Wills, but he didn't envy him that situation in the least. While Carl might not have the most diligent approach to work, at least usually he wasn't in any danger of keeling over.

"And then Uncle Henri will abdicate, and we'll be right back where he started." Amedeo made to pinch the bridge of his nose, but caught himself. A nervous tick he probably would never be fully rid of, and Wills patted his arm sympathetically. Another brief hug for Carl, and when Amedeo had exchanged a few words with him as well, an unreadable glance passed between their friends.

"Are you in trouble?" Amedeo finally asked.

Wills exchanged a glance with Carl, who shrugged, before looking back at the others. "What kind of trouble?"

"Pregnancy tests, ex-girlfriends, separate flats, Carl Philip running off to Sweden all the time," Guillaume started to list with a sigh that showed he wasn't at all comfortable with the topic of discussion. It wasn't hard to imagine what those two had talked about on the flight.

"Separate...flats?" Carl echoed incredulously and wearing such a puzzled expression that Amedeo cocked his head, obviously trying to decipher what it was supposed to mean.

"Rumours are quite insistent on that," Guillaume finally said, and Wills had to resist burying his face in his hands. This was getting out of control.

"And you of all people are listening to the media." Wills was pointlessly angry. At the media, at their friends for just waiting with asking them straight out, with the situation at large. But that was getting them nowhere, so he just herded everyone into the living room and left Carl to take care of something to drink for them. When his husband had settled next to him, he put a hand on Carl's thigh and looked at the other two men. "Neither of us has a mistress, the pregnancy test was for my cousin, the ex is our friend, we don't have separate bedrooms - let alone separate flats - and Carl's in Sweden so much because they're short-handed. Did I forget anything?"

"What Wills means to say is," Carl spoke up and squeezed his knee, "no, we're not in trouble. And we haven't been, and we don't intend to be."

"Good," Amedeo grinned at them and sipped at his juice. "Speaking of pregnancies-"

"Girl," Wills and Carl said in one voice, grinning. Tatiana had finally called them shortly after they'd come back from Sweden after the Nobel Ceremony, confirming their growing suspicions, but there was no word yet on the sex of the baby. If it went anything like her first pregnancy, though, no one would know until after it had been born, Stefano had hidden from ultrasound quite effectively.

They spent the rest of their first evening catching up on gossip running wild in the royal circle, important so they'd know who to press for details on matters next time they saw them. And to have something to make small talk about at the next gathering of European royalty, often enough there was a table date who one needed to gossip with in order to have anything to talk about at all.

It was good, doing this with friends and Wills settled back into the sofa, right hand - the wound had healed off by now but the new skin would never look like the surrounding tissue - combing through Carl's drying hair, with his husband leaned slightly against him. Right then, Wills thought, life was not bad at all.

~*~

"Are you sure it was smart to just let them go like that?" Guillaume asked the next morning over coffee. Wills threw him a look; Amedeo had practically dragged Carl out of bed about an hour ago to go running and he had met Guillaume twenty minutes ago in their kitchen, wearing the same clothes as yesterday but still looking immaculate. For just one night, it usually didn't serve to open suitcases.

Finally, he shrugged. "Carl will have security following him, but swathed in all those clothes, no one is likely to recognise him anyway. He looked like Bibendum. And Amedeo isn't interesting enough." When Guillaume wanted to protest, he corrected with words Carl had said to him years ago, "No one will expect him here, people's expectations play a large role in their perception."

The other man grumbled wordlessly but let it go. "You really aren't splitting up, are you?" he asked instead.

Wills almost choked on his coffee and put down the cup with some effort. "I thought we'd discussed that last night. For someone who has his own husband, you're awfully concerned about the state of my marriage." He added the last sentence with a little sardonic smile which he knew would get to Guillaume.

Guillaume shrugged uncomfortably, but never averted his gaze. "If the two of you get a divorce, they're going to look at us next, and I could do without the scrutiny. Amedeo, too, for that matter."

"I don't know what it takes to convince you," Wills sighed, then an evil thought occurred to him. "Carl can take me here on the table right in front of you when they're back, if that would make you feel better."

Eyes wide with shock, Guillaume looked away now and fled to what was left of his coffee, grumbling something that didn't sound exactly flattering.

"I would have thought years of exposure to Amedeo had hardened you against the mere idea by now," Wills said with a smile, but grew serious. "I hear you've fallen back into old habits."

His friend groaned and waved off. "Don't believe everything Amedeo tells you."

Wills hummed and propped his chin onto one hand. "But I also can't help but notice that you're not looking too good. You're pale as a ghost."

"Carl Philip looks like crap, too, I don't see you making remarks to him," Guillaume shot back defensively, and Wills knew he'd hit a nerve. Guillaume didn't usually use that kind of language with him.

He nodded. "Carl will be better again once the going back and forth stops and he's here more permanently again. I'm serious, Guillaume. We're almost 40, we can't take matters like fifteen, twenty years ago. And you should enjoy the time now, when you can get away with taking it a little easier. Not long and your father will be looking to pass his position to you, won't he?"

Guillaume still wouldn't look at him but stared at his empty cup. Eventually, he said, "He's making noises he wants to be retired by age 70."

Considering Grand Duke Henri didn't have to wait for his eldest son to have raised children to majority, that was a sensible decision. Wills did some quick thinking. "That leaves you with what, five years?"

"About that, yes."

"Take what time you can, then. You have a whole gaggle of nephews, who probably want to know who their uncle is aside from your title. And Amedeo has a right to you, too, and he has a right to you being sane and mentally stable. Your relationship will be under enough strain once you hold the title of Grand Duke, that's not going to be helped by you being on edge all the time now already." He got them both another coffee, before sitting down again and regarding the other man. "This can't be anything new I'm telling you here, you know him longer than I."

"It's not, I-" Guillaume started but didn't get to finish what he was about to say.

"You lost!" Carl's voice sounded through the apartment, laughing and happy. "I'll get the shower first!"

"Not fair," Amedeo responded and sounded just a little bit petulant, enough that Wills saw Guillaume smile fondly. "I didn't even know the way and your bloody security had to show me," he said as they came into the kitchen. When he saw Guillaume, who was shooting a slightly irritated glance at Carl - who in turn was trying to look innocent - he started grinning and went over for a longish kiss, that had Guillaume trying to protest at first but give in when he realised he wouldn't deter his husband.

William looked at the spectacle, barely keeping a grin off his face and that only because Carl was nuzzling his throat with his ice-cold nose and he simply _had_ to retaliate with a slap against his arse. He pressed a kiss to Carl's equally cold lips to make it better, but had to grow serious again and whispered in his ear, "Did Amedeo start another round of interrogation, too?"

His husband hummed in wordless confirmation. "Tried to. I think he's really worried about Guillaume though, it's not been that bad for over a year, I thought..." he trailed off, shrugged. Wills threw another look at their friends, who had started a joking discussion about the various merits of shower before breakfast or vice versa, while Carl sat on the edge of the chair next to him.

"I've talked to him. You kind of interrupted us there, but maybe that was for the better, before he could rationalise it. I can't give him that lecture every few months, though, it's going to stop working sometime soon." Wills sighed and looked sidelong at Carl, who squeezed his fingers.

"I know. It's got to change, though, I'm not sure Amedeo can deal with it for another forty years, even if he'd want to." They'd had talked about it, several times in fact, and not only among the two of them, but Andrea and Tatiana agreed with them as well, and they'd kept coming back to the fact that Guillaume was blind to facts.

"Well, short of kidnapping him and taking him to an abandoned island, I don't see how it's going to work." Wills shrugged. Not the first time they came to that conclusion, either. Unfortunately, Charlotte had internet on her island, and mobile reception, so that was not a possibility, much as it would have been brilliant otherwise. "And I'm not sure what the Luxembourgian people are going to say about their future Grand Duke getting abducted, even for his own good."

"Maybe we should just try it and see what happens," Carl whispered and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. "I need that shower. Are we still leaving at noon?" They were scheduled to go to Scotland to spend the rest of their holidays today, and Wills was looking forward to it even more than usual.

"I wasn't aware I was to change our plans," Wills responded and pulled Carl to him for a kiss before he could get up. "We're leaving at eleven, Andrea and Tatiana are meeting us at the airport." They hadn't been back in London for long, but they both knew they needed the time away, with each other and with their friends. Fresh air, riding in the highlands, snuggling up with Carl, friends to have a good time with... What more could they want?

He turned to the others when Carl had vanished in the bathroom, and saw two equally pleased grins. Shaking his head in exasperation he sighed and went towards getting breakfast organised from downstairs. Returning, he looked his guests over from the door frame. "Why is it that you're using our shower anyway?"

~*~

They had flown up to Glasgow, mostly because this holiday was short from the start, without making it shorter by spending over nine hours in the car on the way there and back again. Carl pouted because of it, but was effectively pacified by renewing their membership in the mile high club. Amedeo shot knowing glances their way, while Guillaume essentially refused to look at them altogether when they came back from the lavatory one at a time.

Andrea and Tatiana met them in the airport lobby, both swathed in overly stuffed coats with what must have been fifteen layers underneath. Mediterraneans, Wills thought and shook his head, smiling when they waved. 

"It's _cold_ ," Andrea told him quietly when they hugged and Wills had to laugh and kissed the man on the cheek once more for good measure.

"We have more clothes at the cottage in case you didn't pack adequately," he assured his friend.

"You should have told me how cold it was. Or that we're going here in the first place, instead of conspiring with Tatiana." Andrea complained - as he always did - just when Carl was coming towards him to receive his own greeting.

Carl let Andrea hang on to him for a little longer, then pushed away and handed a set of keys to Wills, hand coming to rest on his arm, squeezing lightly. "Just be glad we're not in Sweden, it's colder there yet. I'll take the Volvo," he added the last when he turned to look at Wills and winked.

"Of course you do," Wills conceded and looked around for the omnipresent men in dark suits before dropping a kiss on his husband's lips to send him off. Carl might enjoy it, but Wills had better things to do than driving on wintry roads in the Scottish Highlands. Especially as it looked like he'd share a car with Andrea and Amedeo, there was too much potential for distraction. Sometimes, it was convenient that security had to follow him practically everywhere.

"What did you say to Guillaume?" Amedeo wanted to know as soon as they were alone and the armored cars had pulled away from their parking booths. 

Wills turned around, his gaze sliding over the backseat and out the window, to Carl behind the wheel of the other car. He smiled briefly, then focused his attention on his friends again; Andrea had a blanket over his knees and was ineffectually trying to turn pages of his book with his fingers swathed in thick gloves and Amedeo, a blanket on his lap as well, reached over helpfully. "Nothing much, really. Just the usual, that he's working too much and it can't keep going on like that. Oh and I might have offered front row seats when Carl ravishes me on the dining table to convince him we're not divorcing."

It took a second to process, then Amedeo snorted while Andrea's head shot up and he raised an eyebrow. 

"No," Wills told him decisively.

His friend sighed. "I'll get you there one day," he said before turning to Amedeo. "Don't worry about them, if their last little sojourn is any indication... Oh well."

"What?" Amedeo asked and looked back and forth between them like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"You would have had a better stand in convincing Guillaume to take a holiday," Andrea grinned and reached over to pat his thigh. "Don't worry, we'll get them there. It's just a matter of time."

"You are aware that I'm sitting in the car with you, right?" Wills growled playfully. Andrea would never do anything to harm them on any level, which was why they could joke like this without there ever being repercussions that might endanger their friendship. And Andrea understood that while they had never been spelled out and would always be flexible, there were certain boundaries that weren't to be crossed. But those were widely set on both sides.

In the meantime, Andrea had leaned forward and pecked him on the corner of the mouth. "Oh William," he sighed in a tone that he must have copied from Theodora, his breath rushing over his skin, "will you force me to confess my undying love for you now, in front of these witnesses?"

Wills could see in his peripheral vision that their driver had raised his eyebrows, while Amedeo choked and coughed, Andrea helpfully patting his back. "I don't even dare to ask," Amedeo said warily when he'd recovered again.

"Andrea has terrible morning breath," Wills stated, thinking back to the first inofficial visit to Monaco and how he had woken up in bed next to Andrea.

"Wills isn't quiet as snuggly as Carl, unfortunately," Andrea mused absently and with the way the driver was clearing his throat, Wills just hoped the guards didn't have some kind of gossip network going that would blow everything way out of proportion.

Amedeo meanwhile either didn't believe them or was still trying to cope and figure out what and how much of this to tell Guillaume. Wills decided to let him interpret it as he pleased and see what came of it. Knowing Guillaume, if he only so much as thought there was something going on he'd avoid looking at all of them for the next ten days. Months. Probably years.

Sighing, Wills tensed his legs to prevent his muscles from seizing up and let his gaze travel to Carl in the other car again. For a second he caught his eyes and waved, his husband smiled back and winked.

~*~

The first small _situation_ of the trip happened that night already. Everyone was supposed to unpack before meeting downstairs again for dinner, when a crash echoed across the hallway into the open doors and they heard Guillaume yell for Amedeo. Wills exchanged a look with Carl, who shrugged and they made their way over to their friends' room.

As it turned out, Amedeo had switched the content's of his husband's suitcase, resulting in all of Guillaume's nice and proper suits being left in Luxembourg and instead the only thing at his disposal were jeans, as well as t-shirts and sweaters, the latter two looking far too new and unworn.

All of which didn't explain why Andrea had turned into a good-sized octopus and was holding on to Wills like a burr, murmuring about it being cold, even though the central heating had long kicked in already. A beseeching look at Tatiana yielded nothing but a shrug.

"He's hanging on to me like that the first day of every skiing vacation. Getting acclimatised, or something." The explanation why she didn't get that treatment this time was obvious when she patted her still-flat belly. Andrea probably valued his head on his shoulders and other body parts where they belonged as well.

"How did he ever survive living in New York?" Carl wondered "This is like cold rigor," he added when a poke into the side elicited nothing but a murmur.

She sighed. "Threatening him with capital punishment usually works. But he'll get used to it, give him some time." There was a smile somewhere in her voice and when Wills looked at her, amusement was dancing in her eyes.

"Will he sleep in his own bed, at least?" he wondered and dragged Andrea over to his wife. Good thing Wills was physically fit, else lugging all that dead weight around would have been exhausting. 

Snorting, she leaned in to kiss first him on the cheek, then her husband. "I can't guarantee for that. You take good care of him, not that he freezes off the important bits."

He threw her a look, but she vanished back into the room she and Andrea were occupying with only a smile as answer.

Prying Andrea loose was finally accomplished by parking him in front of the open fire place. He would probably have preferred to crawl in there and soak up the heat from the embers, but even in his half-hibernating, half-torporous state he probably realised that was a bad idea. But Andrea wasn't the only one suffering from subjective cold; Amedeo had his hands somewhere under Guillaume's clothing the whole evening, claiming he wasn't feeling them. More likely was he was doing some serious groping, if the occasional squirm from Guillaume was any indication. Wills and Carl graciously ignored it, biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing.

Andrea eventually let himself be lured to his own bed with the promise of extra blankets, but Tatiana wouldn't guarantee them he was about to stay there. "All bets are off once I'm asleep, so better don't do anything he could walk in on. I know he wouldn't mind, but you two..." She winked at them before quietly shutting the door behind her. 

The next morning, Wills was handing Carl groceries from the five large bags that had miraculously appeared on their kitchen table that morning to store away. The procedure was lengthened because they accompanied every item with a kiss. Carl's lips were chapped after a very early morning spent looking after the horses stabled nearby; Guillaume and Amedeo were probably a lost cause as far as riding was concerned, but if Andrea ever came to terms with the temperatures, he might be convinced. On the way back a friendly little tussle had ended in a full out snowball fight and both of them had practically been icicles by the time they came back, although happy icicles at least. A long shower had taken care of the chill.

The short, playful lip locks quickly escalated into those kisses deepening and Carl grinding against him at the counter. Things might have gotten more interesting, had not Andrea come downstairs dressed in nothing but a towel slung around his hips. Obviously, he had coped with the climate change already. 

"It's still cold," he announced, only then spotting them in a somewhat unambiguous position. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Carl answered and pressed another kiss to William's lips that lingered a lot longer than was strictly necessary. "The securities did a grocery run for us, we were just getting the cupboards filled up."

"And I hear getting dressed helps about the cold," Wills pointed out and handed another toast package to his husband.

Guillaume chose that moment to come down the stairs as well, spotted Andrea, turned beet red and went upstairs again. He was probably thankful for the towel, he had seen much more of Andrea in the past few summers. Modesty was not a Grimaldi virtue. 

Andrea meanwhile was grumbling something unintelligible, before coming closer and steal a grape right out of the bag. "Anything else to comment on?"

Exchanging another look with Carl, Wills shrugged. "Maybe you could work out a bit?"

"What?" Andrea asked, both eyebrows raised.

"Well," Carl said and came to lean next to Wills on the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You remember that former footballer-now-coach we saw at the Champions League draw when we were visiting?"

"The one we said looked incredibly much like you?" Wills supplied.

"Yes?" their friend inquired cautiously. "And for the record, I still don't think he does."

They shared another look, this time it was Carl's turn to shrug. "Of course you don't. Be that as it may, we determined at the draw already that the similarity unfortunately doesn't extend to what's beneath your shirt." And Wills remembered those tiny pictures on the phone's screen and licked his lips. "You could look like that, too. If you worked out some."

"It's not like you-" Andrea started but broke off when they both lifted their sweaters and undershirts to remind him that they were both doing jobs, beside the royal circuit, which demanded a certain degree of fitness from them.

Unfortunately Guillaume chose exactly that moment to make another attempt at getting breakfast, but turned around with a prayer on his lips upon the display in front of him and they didn't see him for the rest of the day. Amedeo, of course, didn't quite understand what they had done to his husband when he came down several minutes later to demand breakfast. Maybe part of the reason was that Andrea had already gone upstairs again to dress and keep the cold from creeping in, and they were alone.

"Maybe the stress got to him?" Carl asked innocently and let himself be caught in an embrace, William's chin resting on his shoulder. They'd get Guillaume to ease up on his workload. The question was just if they managed early enough to preserve some of his sanity.

The passing year did offer one last surprise. They had spent a good part of the day outside, with Tatiana refereeing snowball fights and moving target practise (using Andrea or sometimes Guillaume as said target), and had spent the evening comfortably settled in the living room, watching a Die Hard triple feature with pizza piled high with cheese and other unhealthy things that had driven Guillaume almost to despair because making it was so messy, overall.

No, the surprise, a miracle, Wills thought, happened at the turn of the years, when Guillaume for once didn't protest or try to get away when Andrea pressed a kiss to his cheek. Wills saw them exchange a few more words as Tatiana came up to kiss him full on, and then Carl was claiming him back and he was distracted by making promises they knew they would only be able to keep partially, but they both knew that for them, it was the effort that counted.

~*~

It was late when Carl came to bed. So late, in fact, that Wills had already been fast asleep once. But when his husband had climbed into bed next to him and given him a sloppy kiss tasting of mint, just to sling an arm around around his waist and drift off to unconsciousness before his head hit the pillow, Wills had woken up and wasn't able to go right back to sleep.

Carefully shifting, he leaned back to take a good look at his companion in the twilight filtering through the curtains. Relaxed, at least in sleep, after he had looked drained since coming back from Sweden. Carl had spent most of the weekend in his home country as a last-minute replacement because Daniel couldn't make his appointment, and only returned early on Sunday evening, with still the whole preparatory work to do for Monday and a little speech to write. Even after all these years of official appointments, many of them in Britain, Carl still disliked giving speeches. Wills _had_ taken certain steps to condition him not to associate appointments with stress (not that he would ever quite admit to that, although Andrea probably had an idea), but that could only work so far. It wasn't quite so bad when Carl wasn't the sole focus of the collective press attention.

Sighing, Wills tucked Carl's head beneath his chin and snuggled into his arms.

They both had logged a lot of hours the past few months, their only break being over Christmas and New Year's, and Carl had jokingly remarked that any company would have gone broke if they would have had to be paid. Aunt Anne would have laughed resoundingly had she heard that.

Wills slid his arm around his husband as well, fingertips trailing over the muscles of his back, just enough not to tickle and wake him, and simply enjoyed his presence. He had to chuckle, though, when Carl murmured something unintelligible in his sleep and tried to work his thigh between William's. Sex would have been nice, but the way Carl had been looking today there was no way that could have happened, the man had almost been asleep on his feet.

They were spoiled, really. No one bothered if they were affectionate in public - even though the hickey after the Australia tour had resulted in stupid speculative headlines - and thanks to their friendship with Andrea (and the cooperation Carl's neighbours in Sweden) they remained largely unmolested during their holidays as well. The fact that they were still this compatible in bed was something else to be thankful for, Wills knew, he knew a lot of couples who hadn't been together quite as long as they had and were in a constant state of frustration with each other.

Ten years. Well, almost. He sighed again and closed his eyes, trying to get back into the headspace that allowed him to sleep, lulled by the warmth radiating off his husband and the certainty that embrace offered. No one had probably expected them to last this long, or to last any length of time at all.

But that year of keeping their relationship secret had been crucial to allowing them to build a foundation and for Wills to be sure of his choices. And he had been sure when he told Carl he loved him. Not that he would have wanted to make things public then, or even tell their families, but that didn't change the facts. The years after they had been forced to go public and before their marriage, well, those had been mostly to get everyone used to the idea rather than themselves. He had been sure when he told Carl he loved him. He still did. Quite fiercely.

The arm around his waist momentarily tensed and a breath different from Carl's normal sleeping pattern rushed over his skin. "Why're y'awake?" he murmured sleepily, lips moving against William's skin.

"Nothing, just enjoying having you here. You had a long weekend, get some rest," Wills answered and ducked down to kiss him quickly. There'd be time to get up to the more fun things to do in bed tomorrow morning. Carl mumbled something else into his skin that sounded a lot like 'I love you' and Wills had to smile as muscles lost tension again and from there it didn't take long for sleep to find him as well.

~*~

Wills had been cleared by the RAF to fly again - physically and psychologically - early in December already, but he was only put back on his unit's roster in February. His first two-week-stint coincided with Carl being drafted again by the Swedish court to take on various appointments. That made it at best difficult, at worst impossible for them to even talk on the phone due to their schedules clashing spectacularly, and Wills being put on above-average standby duty.

He came back to headlines announcing he and Carl had started divorce proceedings, three missed calls from Amedeo and a dozen from Andrea, as well as various inquiries from several non-royal friends they spend time with when they could. He wondered if the rest of his peers were asking questions as well and just deemed it inappropriate to ask them directly, or if they didn't give anything on rumours. Sighing, he checked the Swedish media, but they were more concerned about the fact that their king still wasn't back to his usual schedule and Princess Madeleine having cancelled all engagements until further notice.

Frowning, he clicked the news away and contemplated this development. Carl wasn't answering his phone, but in the middle of the day that wasn't surprising. Madde he didn't really want to try; cancelling her appointments meant his sister-in-law and her husband had their hands full doing other things, and Vicky and Daniel had enough stress as it was without him adding to it further.

Instead, he called Amedeo.

"Wills," the man greeted him impatiently. "Get to the point, I don't have much time."

"You were the one to call me," he reminded him.

Amedeo sighed. "And you know why. So?"

"There's nothing to the headlines," Wills said dutifully and wondered how often he would have to say it until people believed him. The other man made a wordless sound of assent and something occurred to Wills. "Have you talked to Carl about this?"

"He hasn't been picking up the last few days, either. We thought the two of you had fled the country."

There was a murmur in the background that had Wills raise both eyebrows. "I've been on SAR duty. Say, am I interrupting something?"

"Lunch break," Amedeo said curtly and Wills had to bite his lips not to start laughing, but he decided not to keep his friends any longer and try to sort things out.

"I understand. Do me a favour and don't call Carl, I don't know if he's paid any attention to foreign media and I don't want to worry him further."

"You got it. Bye Wills." The line went dead before he could make his own goodbyes, and he shook his head. Being conscious of duty was one thing, picking up the phone when one was preoccupied with more physical matters quite another.

But Wills didn't have enough leisure to give that more than passing thought right now. This business with the media was a problem. If he chose, he could, of course, ask Buckingham Palace for a press release - or even do it himself in both their names - denying any and all accusations, but he knew from bitter experience that it would only fuel the rumours further. All of his instincts screamed at him to tell to everyone who wanted to know or not that his marriage was solid and founded in a love that ran even beyond the deep end of the ocean. But he knew that would be the biggest mistake they could make, that it was what the press was practically waiting for, a foothold that would enable them to tear Carl and him to shreds later. That was how it always went. You didn't talk to the vultures about emotions, unless it was unavoidable. So Wills kept his own counsel, sighed and hit another number on speed dial.

"If I caught you in the middle of a noon nookie, too, hang up now," he said before Andrea had the chance to get a single word in.

"Too?" his friend echoed, obviously amused. "I take it the fact that my little presents aren't being returned to sender unopened means the headlines are a lot of bullshit again?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Wills shot a quick look at the small parcel sitting on their couch table. "Factually, neither of us has been here for two weeks, but there's not even a grain of truth to them. And thanks for whatever, I'll be sure to open it...later."

Andrea hummed. "Good to know. Are you doing okay?"

"Have you talked to Carl?" Wills wanted to know in return, evading an answer for the next few moments.

"You mean he's actually not dead and buried in a ditch somewhere? He's not been picking up for a few days now." He sounded unconcerned, but Wills didn't like it at all. Amedeo had said the same and the two of them would hardly have called simultaneously... Which either meant Carl had dropped his mobile somewhere, or he was ignoring it completely. "Wills?"

"I'm here," he said with a sigh. "Sorry, I was on call last night and flying a good bit of it. Can you not talk to Carl about this? I think he's swamped with stuff as it is, I don't want to burden him further."

Contemplative silence followed. "You need to clear this up," Andrea said earnestly after several long seconds.

"I know." Wills rubbed his eyes. So much for getting a quiet day before starting on his work in London, left untouched during his absence. "I know. I'm not sure how, yet, but..." he trailed off, shrugged in a helpless gesture.

"Do you need some moral support?" Andrea asked quietly. "I could come by, I have a two-day-lull in my schedule and Tatiana's gone to Paris with my mother and the lil' one."

"With things as they are, they'll make you out to be my paramour, what with remarking how often you've been spotted entering our home," Wills answered dismissively and rolled his shoulders. He could feel tension setting in and that wasn't a good sign. That was unnecessary stress and it nagged at him endlessly.

"Well..." Andrea said and trailed off suggestively and Wills could just see him in his mind's eye, waggling his eyebrows.

At least that made him laugh. "Yeah, keep dreaming. Thanks Andrea. Talk to you soon?"

"You bet. And we need to tell Amedeo to stop taking calls when he's...busy."

They ended the call on a lighter note than it had started and Wills was glad of it.

It took two more days until he managed to get a hold of Carl. Two days of not raging, but still persistent headlines. As if there was nothing more important for them to write about. And his husband's continued, as of yet unforeseeable, absence didn't make it any better, neither for the media, nor for him. Separation had always been wearing on him, but he could accept it if it was planned and/or inevitable. And while the latter certainly was the case, that didn't mean he had to like it. He missed Carl, the feeling of his presence next to him, the simple possibility to turn around and share a joke or a sentence from a book or a ridicule about reports handed to them by the press staff. The little things, just as much as the big.

If he was absolutely truthful with himself, he was a little annoyed. Not about the current physical separation, he could deal with that, but Carl could at least pick up his phone once in a while. His minute irritation dissipated when his husband picked up at last and sounded tired enough to fall asleep and wake up in a year. 

"Tell me you love me," Carl demanded when the connection was established.

Fearing Carl had read the headlines after all, Wills said with as much conviction and firmly as possible, "I love you."

"Thank you," he sighed. "I've spent the past few days up to my elbows, literally, in blood and slime. And that's not counting the royal circus going on in this country with Madde out of commission now."

"What's with that, anyway?" Wills asked and leaned back in his office chair. "In the middle of you being short handed and all."

"She says she's sick. But between us, I think she's pregnant again."

Stunned, William blinked a few times. Madde certainly was well within the age-range to still have children - after all she was barely a year older than Tatiana - but they'd thought she was done after two. "Love?"

"Sorry, I was," admitting he was scared might be a bad idea, even though Carl probably shared the sentiment, "woolgathering."

"Shocked, would be the word you're looking for. It's not official mind, but you know, when Madde's pregnant she's," a cranky and demanding bitch, "special."

"That," Wills said decisively, "is very nicely put."

"I'd like to come back to you, at some point, not be eaten alive by my sister" Carl grumbled. "How was your tour of duty, flyboy?"

"Unspectacular, you'll be pleased to hear. When _will_ you come back to me? And what the hell is going on up there?" Wills took called up the browser on his laptop and idly scrolled through flights to Stockholm for the next couple of days. Just so he knew his options, of course.

Carl heaved a sigh and he could hear cloth rustling, as if his husband were settling down after pacing all the while until now. He'd seen press pictures of some of Carl's appointments and tired as he looked, he really wished to be there. Just to _be_ there. "We don't know. We have eight out of ten cows aborting calves and no idea why. The vets looking into it but tests take time and.. You know. We've stopped inseminating until we know what's the matter, but that's not ideal either." He stopped himself and seemed to collect his thoughts. "A couple of weeks. I wish you were here."

"I could come to you," Wills suggested. "There's a flight this evening I could easily make, you know?"

He knew Carl was pulled back between desire and the need to keep both their duties in mind. "You've got things to do," he finally said.

"Yeah, like the meeting my father has set up for us, and don't ask me why. I hope it's just a request to take over some appointment. Or some charity event he wants me for. I fear not, though." It was his turn to sigh and up to Carl to murmur encouragements. Wills thought it was endearing he was only ever doing that in Swedish and smiled fondly at the memories prompted by this.

They talked for a few minutes more, exchanging news - although Wills was careful to leave out any comment on the headlines - and banter until it was time for him to leave. He admonished Carl gently to keep his mobile on hand before getting on his way. Replaying every word they'd said on the short way to Clarence House, Wills wondered at underlying currents but couldn't find any. It was unlikely Carl was worrying about more than what was going on in his immediate vicinity. Not that that wasn't enough already. 

Finding his father in his study, bent over some paper work didn't bode well at all. Generally, Charles wasn't on London a lot these days. When he wasn't out on appointments he preferred Birkhall and Highgrove to his official residence in the capital. While most of his family members shared the sentiment that the London residences weren't the most homey, Wills knew that his father's severe dislike and plans to move the court once he was in office didn't sit well with the public. Understandable, considering the royal family was as much tourist attraction as historic institution. One more reason, he figured, to show a little presence and cater to people's expectations, especially since they divided their time between Sweden, London, Scotland, Wales and their continental friends already anyway. 

"Dad? You wanted to see me?" he asked wearily and carefully stepped into the room that had remained unchanged ever since they'd first taken up residency here.

"William, yes. Come in, sit down. I have good news for you. Do you remember the pre-nup we had the lawyers draft before that wedding?" His father looked at him with a huge smile and on his face and Wills didn't know if he should get up and storm out of the room or groan in exasperation. 'That wedding', of course. Never 'your wedding'. In his father's eyes, Carl was probably no more than an object, a plaything to be discarded when Wills grew sick of it. 

He sighed and opted for an as reasonable tone as he was able to manage. Which was still more reasonable than this whole matter deserved. "Dad, we're not getting a divorce. I can't believe you're paying this nonsense in the press any heat."

"Listen, William," his father kept looking at him but lost the smile. "I can understand that you don't want to admit to me that it was folly, this marriage you insisted to go through with. But son, don't let your own stubbornness get in your way. This pre-nup is absolutely watertight, he'll get what's specified and nothing more. No way any lawyer can press a drop more out of us."

It was ridiculous. Once the initial shock had been over, William's partner of choice had been widely accepted, his family had wished him well, his friends had dealt with it and after their wedding another European heir had outed himself as well. An heir who now was a close enough friend that they spent their holidays together. The one person who still hadn't accepted William's relationship, much less his marriage, and was even actively working against it was his own father. And if Amedeo was to be believed, he had even tried to enlist the help of Princess Astrid, wanting to use her to ruin his marriage alongside her son's as well. At least the only thing he had achieved was that she had come to at least accept Amedeo's choice; one relationship between parent and child saved.

All of that had led Wills to be thankful he and Carl were this solid. He couldn't even start to imagine how things would stand if Carl and he didn't trust in each other so completely. There also was the question what would have happened if they'd made their relationship public earlier, if maybe Charles would have driven them apart... 

He shook his head. "It's been ten years. Get over yourself." Then he got up and made for the door. It was disrespectful, and it would come to haunt both of them at some point, but he just didn't have the mental capacity to deal with his father being a moron right now.

"William," he was called back and stopped in the open door but didn't turn around. "You know you can always get out of this."

But enough was enough. Wills turned around and fixed his father with a glare Gran used whenever she wanted to chastise anyone, and he had worked a long time at perfecting it. "I don't _want_ to get out of it, Dad. Carl is my husband, I love him and he loves me. He's a part of me and I don't know why you're apparently unable to come to terms with it even after all this time, but I'm sick of you undermining our marriage whenever you get a chance - in front of the press no less. Carl is not here right now, that is true, but that's because he's helping his family because they need him. That does not mean we're going to separate, though. Ever. Accept it already or just leave us alone, I don't care any longer by now."

And then he did turn around and leave without giving his father the chance to speak up once more.

Although it only came down to him climbing flights of stairs and a few minutes later he let himself fall onto Harry's sofa, brooding. Ten years ago, who would have thought that his brother would ever become his place to go to in times of crisis?

In truth, he just wanted to have some tea with Alex, pregnant with her second child. It belatedly occurred to him that a lot of females in his immediate vicinity were pregnant right now, and he foresaw a lot of shared vacations in Scotland in the near future. "He's blind to reason, Alex," he sighed when she had settled next to him. She was 23 weeks along and absolutely comfortable with the second pregnancy, and didn't even seem to mind getting bigger by the day. Not that he would ever utter such a thing where she could hear it. "I'm not sure how this is supposed to play out once he's King."

She patted his arm. "I'm sure it'll work itself out."

"When, Alex? It's been almost a decade, we've been married for almost five years and he waves that bloody contract in front of my face!" He shook his head.

"Well, he surely can't force you to get a divorce, even when he's invested?"

"No," he contemplated. "But he can make problems for us, if he really wants to. If Bea wouldn't come after me with well deserved wrath, I'd vacate my place in the succession now."

"And go where?" she laughed. "Do you want to place an add in the paper, 'Fully trained royal heir, to give away for best offer or for free'?"

"I'm sure the Swedes would take us. They're short on manpower as it is, I'm sure they wouldn't mind two more people on their roster." It was an option he hadn't seriously thought about until now, but right then it was extremely attractive, despite the six months worth of winter. "And I'm sure Andrea can wheedle a citizenship for us out of his uncle."

"Oh Wills," she sighed and pecked him on the cheek. "We'd miss you here. Both of you."

Smiling sadly, he shrugged. "It's not really feasible. But sometimes... I don't know. He's supposed to be supportive and I could deal with it if he just did it in private. It's getting out of hand, though, with the public."

His sister-in-law reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Unfortunately, he didn't feel too reassured.

~*~

Once they'd been living together more or less permanently, it had been too easy to forget what it was like to live their lives apart and trying to have a relationship with phone calls. All of that had been true ten years ago when they had only been lovers, and William found it exceedingly difficult to do the same with a marriage. When they'd just been through the same routine with the Australia tour, too, although that had yet been different, his days filled with extra-ordinary work rather than his usual load in London.

His daily late-night chat with Carl, something they'd established what felt like a lifetime ago and that they'd now resuscitated, was only so much solace and did nothing to ease his frustration. The simple fact that he couldn't - or rather wouldn't - draw his husband's attention to the media war raging around him didn't help much either, but he refused to add to what was eating at Carl anyway - and as long as the Swedish press didn't pick up on it, he was safe. Wills, on the other hand, had a request from his grandmother asking to speak to both of them as soon as possible. No splendid prospects at all.

"My father is off the crutches and on a cane for one, two hours a day now," Carl said that evening and the relief in his voice was palpable.

Wills smiled, pushing the dark thoughts away. It was weird doing this so consequently these days, when normally they shared their worries. "I'm glad," he said honestly. His father-in-law was far more accepting than Charles was, and having at least one set of parents approve was a huge weight off both their shoulders. "Tell him I'll send him a special cane if that gets him back on his feet any quicker."

"We already conspired what to give him for fun, we'll draw you into the next round," Carl was obviously grinning. "And Pappa soon being back to work means I get to come home. I booked a flight for next Thursday."

Speechless for a moment, Wills felt a load of stones fall off his heart. "You're serious?"

"Very serious. You do want me back home, don't you?"

"You have no idea. That's good news, love." And he'd waited with dropping them too, sneaky bastard. But at least now there was something to look forward to, with a definite date on it.

Carl made an indefinite sound. It really is, especially considering Madde is close to murdering me with her glances."

"What did you do this time?" Madde, who could be scary all by herself on a good day, was somewhat twitchy when she was pregnant. He remembered the first time, when she had caught him unawares in the kitchen of Haga, and shuddered.

"Mentioned I'd seen a cute maternity dress downtown," Carl answered innocently and Wills had to hold back a laugh. Of course Madde had gone off on that, she knew pretty well what Carl considered to be 'cute' and that he still couldn't colour coordinate.

He decided not to elaborate on it further. "Alex tells me I'm unbalanced. I don't know what she means."

"Probably the same as Amedeo when he called the other day, although he only said I needed to get laid," Carl mused with a wistful sigh and that sounded like Amedeo indeed. "Oh, and the vet's figured out what's wrong with my cattle."

Blinking, Wills sat up straighter. "And you only say that now?"

"Well, I thought you'd be more interested in me coming home, it's not like I could know those animals meant so much to you."

"Carl..."

"It's a virus. Don't ask me how and what and why, but an infection can cause spontaneous aborts of pregnancy. In other animals and humans, too, I guess we should be glad Madde wasn't here for the past year or so." His husband had a point and Wills bit his lip as he considered the possible consequences.

"Can they do anything? Do they know where it's coming from?" he wanted to know. Stupid critters, and for once he didn't mean the cows.

A sigh came through the line and Wills could almost hear the shrug. "Apparently, it's only dangerous during the actual infection and once animals have been infected it's fine, but there's no drug or something. And it probably is the water line, at least that was the only source where they could detect it so...we'll check for contamination and renew it."

Sitting back again, Wills gave a sigh of his own. "Good news all around, then." Except for the headlines, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it, for sure. There was no choice, after all.

"Good news," Carl confirmed and there was a smile in his voice.

They talked a little longer and it was past midnight when Wills put the phone on the night stand on his side of the bed. Sleeping alone was getting old, and he was glad that it would end next week. Until then, his constant companions would be the reporters, salivating over a potential story. The only reason they weren't writing about his bowel movements was because York House had built-in bathrooms.

Well, he had missed his annual visit to Erin last year due to the Australia tour and had had not yet opportunity to make up for that. Time to find out, he thought sardonically, what the exalted members of the yellow press would make out of a graveyard visit about whose nature they were kept from being privy to by the good and hard working RPD officers.

~*~

Wills had come downstairs to read up on his appointments next week in the reception hall. It was a ruse, of course; in truth he waited for Carl to arrive back home. The staff was bustling around him, not quite sure what to make of one of their princes sitting in the hall, more than one eye on the side door serving as private entrance, but quite determined in fulfilling their duties.

It took several hours - and more than one false alarm - and William couldn't have said what was written in most of the paperwork he'd been perusing, when a RPD officer held the door open. Within a few seconds Wills was out of the chair and watched his husband step through the entrance, a word of thanks for his security officer, and drop a heavy bag on the floor with a loud thumping sound. It was only after heaving an audible sigh that he looked up and spotted Wills.

For a few seconds they were just looking at one another, after five consecutive weeks apart, and Wills took in the little changes. While Carl didn't look as if he lacked sleep, there were no rings under his eyes and his complexion was looking good enough, he emanated a sense of thorough exhaustion and weariness. "Wills," he said quietly, his tone relieved and glad, and a took a few measured steps towards him.

William smiled, one of the few genuine smiles he had found since these ridiculous rumours had started, and closed the distance between them with more determination.

Carl let himself practically fall into his embrace; arms closing around him, muscles losing tension, face buried against his shoulder and one hand coming to rest on William's lower back under his shirt, warm and intimate. Wills could feel Carl's chest rising and falling against his own as he breathed deeply and tightened his own hold. "Welcome home," Wills murmured into his hair and felt his husband nod.

Anyone watching them might have wondered at the lack of words, but right in that moment each other's presence was enough to ease the feeling of loneliness that had built up in them over the weeks alone. After all, there had been almost daily calls back and forth, whenever they could manage at least, and emails and William would not even start counting the words exchanged. None of them could make up for the presence of his husband in bed next to him, or the feeling of a hand clasped in his.

They stood like that for several minutes, until Carl exhaled deeply and began moving away, the hand not resting under William's shirt coming up to pull him down by the nape of his neck. Kissing was another connection, sorely missed, and while they didn't get up to anything too intimate here in the hall, just the slightest trace of tongue from Carl, just the barest taste of him, it was still good and necessary and Wills enjoyed it almost more than the deep kisses they could exchange in private. Almost.

He let it go on for a while, before trailing little kisses up his husband's jaw to his temple and his forehead.

They had talked, but Wills had, after all, tried his level best to keep the building pressure regarding the headlines away from Carl, who had enough worries with his father, his sister, his livestock. It wouldn't have done to burden him even further with what was being whispered behind their backs here in Britain, as doubtlessly Carl was aware of the tabloids himself. Although, and Wills didn't know which power to thank for it, the Swedish media had not made as huge a fuss of it as the British had and chances were good that he had not been too perturbed by it. The RPD would have made sure to pick him up covertly, so he wouldn't be harassed by reporters who had been tipped off by someone.

"Upstairs?" Carl whispered and leaned up for one more kiss.

Regretfully, William shook his head, but went for the kiss anyway. "We need to go and talk to Gran."

"Now?" It sounded incredulous. Wills understood, the last few weeks had been full of appointments, worries and sleepless nights, he could practically smell the exhaustion on Carl, but there was no helping it. With any luck, they'd get away unscathed.

"She's asked to speak with us as soon as you're home. Several weeks ago already, in fact," he sighed and saw the confusion on his husband's face.

"You didn't say anything," Carl frowned. There was no accusation in his tone, it was only a statement, albeit it was evident he didn't quite know what to do about it.

"You were under enough strain already, I didn't want to add to it. We're...the media has turned on us, after a fashion." He brought one hand up to tangle into Carl's hair, mercifully he hadn't fallen back into old habits and left the gel away, and rested their foreheads together. "It's a mess."

Carl made a sound of agreement, but still didn't remove his hand from where it rested warmly against his back and for the longest time neither of them moved.

An hour later they entered the Queen's office with their finger's interlinked. Carl had changed from jeans into slacks and donned a clean shirt, shaved and drunk some coffee. There had been no time for more intimacies between them, but simply being close had worked to soothe both of them. There had not been a lot of talking, although William had given an abbreviated account of what had been happening these last five weeks, discounting the speculations of the alleged divorce and alimony, although he could still say no more why gran wanted to talk to them. Surely she must know they didn't have any kind of crisis.

The Queen, obviously informed that her grandson-in-law had arrived back in the country, looked up from her paperwork and regarded the both of them. They had not been invited to sit, but scolding was always delivered while standing up, anyway. Sitting was a privilege reserved for pleasantries and councils of wars-against-the-media.

"I'm not granting you a divorce," she simply said and gazed at them levelly.

William blinked. Whatever he had been imagining this meeting to be about, this widely surpassed his expectations.

He saw Carl begin to frown, turn a wild gaze at him, but to his credit, he didn't try to let go of his fingers but only tightened his grip. Wills squeezed back and they had about a second to look at one another.

"Who wants a divorce?" Carl finally asked, eyes back on the Queen - and for once standing under her gaze unflinching when meeting her in official capacity. Whether this was due to his bone-deep exhaustion or a the shock of this revelation, William couldn't tell.

She put the pen away with slow deliberation, folded one hand over the other on the desk and sighed. "While I am not usually given to paying credence to the media, the mounting evidence of a growing separation between you is hard to ignore. After all, Carl Philip, you have been spending considerable time away from Britain these last few months and have cancelled more appointments of joint appearance than you have kept. All the while, you have increased your workload in Sweden. Now, I understand about the cancelled tour to Australia, after your father's injury, but these matters have been escalating since then."

"Gran-"

"No, Wills," Carl interrupted him gently. "Let me."

A little surprised, William blinked at his husband, who just smiled, tiredly but with a serene quality he had seldom seen on Carl. Cautiously, he nodded.

"Ma'am," Carl started, but either lost his nerve or simply didn't know what to say, because for several seconds there was silence, until he sighed and started again. "It's true that I could have kept my quiet life and simply waited for my niece to grow up so I only would have to show up for annual ceremonies anymore. And while I don't strictly _want_ a life this public, I've made the decision to deal with it, for the sake of being with William, before we decided to marry. And I'm not going back on my decision, I have no regrets."

Her eyes rested on Carl and the raising of one inquiring brow was enough to make William tighten his hold on Carl's hand even further. "That is good to know, however it does not explain the facts."

"True." Another pause, this one even longer than the previous one. This was costing Carl, if his sweaty palm was any indication and Wills shuffled his weight minutely so he was pressed closer. There was nothing he would have wanted to do more than bundle Carl up and drag him to their bedroom, but with his grandmother sitting there as the Queen of England, he didn't even quite dare put an arm around him. "The reason for my continued absences... It is an unfortunate chain of events, really."

He continued to talk and told her about his father's continued efforts to get back on his feet, angry at himself and everyone else, and how all other members of his family were at the absolute limit of their capacities, especially with Madeleine pregnant again and not taking the pregnancy very well this time. With the added complications at the farm...

The tension in the room wasn't easing, though. Normally, Gran and Carl got along quite well, mechanics being their favourite shared topic, but she was 93 years old, and William could understand that she was sick of having to fix every single family crisis personally, now in the third generation already. Even if that was her job, as it would be his job one day, he understood how this must be wearing on her. Which was why he still didn't do more but keep tight hold of Carl's hand even after he had ended his report.

What seemed to be a long time passed, and Wills could feel Carl's pulse gradually calming down again, until the Queen spoke up, eyes on him this time. "William?"

"I couldn't leave and someone had to do our appointments." He shrugged. If it had been possible he would have gone to be with Carl, but the RAF didn't take kindly to their pilots going AWOL, even when they were heirs to crowns, and what could he have done for Carl in Sweden? He held no titles, had no official status, he wasn't part of the royal family there which meant he couldn't help with appointments and his presence might have distracted his husband too much despite also granting support. Too often in their position, there was to be made a compromise between love and duty. "Divorce has not been an issue."

It never would be.

Despite all their fights, he had never even once thought about it. He still loved Carl more than he cared to share with anyone else, they had been through too much together already, and William had silently promised himself a long time ago that he would make whatever marriage he ended up in work. Little had he known back when that his marriage would be symbolically significant, but all the more it had been worth fighting for and still continued to be.

Queen Elizabeth regarded both of them in turn for a long moment, their joined hands in particular, before she sighed, for once looking every single one of her years. "Very well. I'm glad to hear the two of you are sensible young men, after all. I expect you to fix this with the public. I don't particularly care how, as long as it isn't completely outrageous." She eyed him sharply; youthful exploits of before he was with Carl coming to haunt him. "It will be good training for you."

She took up her pen again, the obvious sign for dismissal and when she nodded and looked down at her papers again, he tugged at Carl's hand and pulled him out of the office and out Buckingham Palace to the waiting car.

With road repairs in progress, they had to take the long way around and got stuck in traffic on The Mall on their way back to York House. The tinted windows of the car revealed pedestrians being rained upon, cars advancing even slower than them. The glass pane separating the back from the front was up, but they had yet to exchange a word. Both of them were staring out of their side windows; the reason having a lot to do with long days and mental exhaustion, William knew, and not so much with an actual emotional distance between them.

When the car once more came to a halt and it didn't look like they'd be moving again any time soon, Carl sighed and unbuckled himself to scoot over and put his head on William's shoulder. Wills smiled and a few rearrangements of limbs and bodies later had his arm slung around Carl, hand wriggled beneath his shirt to stroke over flank and belly.

"I don't have to tell you of all people to stay buckled, do I?" he murmured but made no attempt to push him away.

Carl just made a sound of assent and raised his head to drop a chaste kiss on his lips. "If it ever looks like we'll pick up any kind of speed that will get us home in a reasonable time, I'll place safety first. We should walk."

"And display to everyone that we're not in the middle of a marital crisis? This isn't Stockholm."

The other man just snorted. "We couldn't even do that in Stockholm anymore, these days. Wherever from did they conjure all that money anyway?" As if there hadn't been a whole horde of lawyers concerned with setting up pre-nups for them for a year before their marriage.

"Precedence," he answered after a minute, but didn't elaborate further. Carl would know. And yet it wasn't the same situation, William was, after all and by rights, still just another junior royal. But the press tended to be negligent of such details.

There was no answer for a moment. Then, "However _are_ we to get them to lay off this nonsense?"

"You could let me snog you senseless on national telly," Wills grinned and received a dark look in return. Not that such a thing would take long, considering how nervous Carl still got when too much press attention was on him.

"I'd prefer the well-tipped hotel clerk who receives another nice sum from the press for the sold information."

"Ah, a classic." He nodded approvingly. They'd used that method a time or two already, but usually to divert their actual holiday location. It would probably turn into a simple press conference, although if people would believe them was an entirely different matter. But he really didn't want to talk about this today, when Carl had only just come home, so he changed the subject. "Are you very tired?"

"Not too tired not to let the staff know we aren't facing divorce." William heard the grin rather than saw it and couldn't help but chuckle. Turning Carl's face up to him, he leaned in to kiss. Things got a little heated, with tongues and teeth and buttons undone, and they would have wound up half-lying on the back seats, had it not been for his still buckled seatbelt.

His husband laughed at him, eyes dancing as he levered himself up again and would have snuggled up once more, had the car not just then bumped slightly and picked up a little speed. "It's definitely time we're getting home."

"High time," Wills agreed and reached out to let his hand rest on the crook where Carl's thigh met his hip, fingers just so resting over his zipper. Carl's hand meanwhile came to rest on his, thumb stroking his pulse point ever so lightly. Far too distracting for thoughts about press conferences or tabloid headlines, and if his smirk was any indication, Carl knew exactly the effect he was having.

There was little ceremony once the door to their apartment had fallen shut behind them.

Their clothes were left in a trail from the door to the bedroom and if anyone should come in, at least they'd know their princes were busy and didn't want to be disturbed. As they had found out at earlier occasions of frantically trying to get to bed, losing your pants while scrambling to be somewhere else wasn't easy and both of them almost stumbled, but eventually they made it to bed, naked and laughing between kisses.

And that was quite enough foreplay, as far as he was concerned.

Wills hadn't counted on the emotional roller coaster their being together again was turning out to be. It by far wasn't the first time they'd been separated for a time, even for weeks on end, and they had been together for almost ten years now, but he found he was slightly shaking when Carl opened the lube bottle.

His husband frowned, put the bottle aside and laid one hand low on his belly. Wills closed his eyes for a second before sitting up. Carl's hand slipped away, deliberately stroking over his cock before being placed on his bent knee. Wills didn't leave him any time to speak but simply kissed him, pushed his tongue into the other's mouth and watched as the frown dissipated and his eyes closed before pulling him even closer. It was the stress, surely.

In all these weeks, months really, during which the speculation about their relationship had run ever wilder in the press, but also within the royal family, there had never been a serious question in his mind whether their marriage was intact. But all the more for that, it made listening to the gossip hard, and when he was on his own even more so than when he had Carl in bed next to him every night, no more than arm's reach away. There was a reason, William mused as he broke the kiss for breath, why they slept always entangled; Carl was not only a highly tactile person, but William had the sneaking suspicion that, just as for him, it had to do with feeling complete and whole.

"Okay?" Carl whispered when he wasn't panting anymore, looking him in the eye. There were a myriad emotions written in Carl's, and Wills didn't have the deliberation to disentangle them.

For a long moment, he didn't say anything. They were so close they were breathing each other's air, then Wills leaned in and placed a lingering but otherwise chaste kiss on his husband's lips, one hand buried in his hair to keep him close.

"I love you." They knew, of course, but sometimes it just needed saying. And it never failed to bring a smile to Carl's face. He kissed that smile, but was rewarded for his troubled with a soft nip to his lower lip.

He pouted and Carl laughed, trailed kisses from his mouth over his jaw and down his throat. Bit down gently on his collarbone, then he was pushed back on the bed again. "I love you, too. You have no idea-," he interrupted himself, never taking his eyes off Wills while retrieving the bottle with the hand not still placed on his knee. "All right this way?"

Wills nodded and watched as the cap popped open and Carl coated his fingers with a sizable amount. The shaking was gone and the slight quivering in his groin he could easily identify as anticipation.

But he wasn't the only one for whom their lovemaking was different this time; the gasp Carl made when he was finally - _finally_ \- buried deep inside Wills could easily be interpreted as a too emotional to be just that. All movement stilled for a moment when they looked at one another from this new perspective, until they picked up a rhythm that suited them both and Carl bent down to him. They were good at nonverbal conversation, always had been, and the fact that they each knew the other so well only helped; hands freely roamed but always returned to sensitive spots and they basked in the familiarity, in not having to get to know one another, but in simply picking up where they had left off.

Not having been together for so long also meant that it didn't take long for heat to spill into Wills, but he didn't care, he'd been practically been on edge ever since that bottle of lube had come into play.

A long while later, when they were both freshly showered and he was lying with his head pillowed on Carl's belly, his husband's fingertips were idly mapping his shoulders and upper back, the other hand holding one of his, Wills couldn't help thinking once more that they were well-met, indeed.

"You're staying for longer this time," he calmly stated and the caress stilled minutely, before picking up again. He was almost sure he had startled Carl from a doze, because a muscle beneath William's cheek jumped in the same instant and his eyes opened into slits.

Carl exhaled audibly and sank even further into the pillows, if that was possible - not with tension but relaxation for once. "Wearing on you, too, is it?"

That wasn't the answer he had hoped for, and it was an superfluous question as well, but he still tightened his hold of his hand. "You know it is."

Carl nodded and sighed. "I don't have any plans to the contrary. They've reduced the amount of appointments for everyone, and Pappa has been taking over the daily governmental things from Vicky again. You know I love Sweden, Wills, in a way that Britain will never be able to compare, but I need you. If ever I had required proof of that, I'd have it now." It was a simple statement, with no flourishes and no exaggerated emotion in his voice, and that made it all the more precious to William. For Carl to just say it like that, while true for Wills as well, meant more to him than he was willing - or in fact able - to put into words.

Instead, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the expanse of skin beneath him, then pushed up to lie next to Carl. They kissed again and Wills regretted it a little that they both weren't young enough anymore to get up to anything more. Kissing was, in any by itself, quite enough to make him happy on most occasions, but after five weeks, he craved having Carl in him, it was almost like an addiction. Sighing, he caught one of Carl's thighs between his own and rested a hand on his chest, feeling the heart beating beneath it.

"Your Gran's right, we'll have to fix this," Carl eventually said when they had resorted to petting. There probably were places they both should be, but neither of them cared much. This was more important.

"Do we? I don't find myself quite willing to lay open our love life to all and sundry. If you're staying, we can just go on as before and let everyone draw their own conclusions." Of course there would still be talking, people would find matters to gossip about anyway. But when they were together, they could just defuse that as they went along.

Carl frowned with disapproval. "I'm not living my life with you under an even bigger magnifying glass than is the case already, until you're sitting on that throne or even beyond that. If we don't let the public know that we're having a normal marriage, or what passes for normal in royal circles at least, there will always be scrutiny wherever we show up together. I'm not having that, Wills."

He could see it, too. And he could see how it would put even more pressure on Carl. Waiting it out was no solution and they had yet an opportune window to act, to dissolve any and all rumours in that regard. And even if Carl was beyond the reach of the press a lot of the time, it was starting to encroach on their private life, too. Andrea, Amedeo and the others certainly had believed him when he ensured them they were fine, but he by far had not contact with everyone and once the doubts started on the royal circuit as well... There was no telling where it would lead, eventually.

No, better to take care of it once and for all and hope that everyone would get the message. Just how, that was the big question.

"All that money," Carl sighed exaggeratedly, "what a waste, though."

"Look here, you," Wills growled and leaned in to nip at his mouth. Carl didn't let him get away again though, came after him to lick his lips open and Wills gladly let him in.

"So if I let you keep the money, I get to keep you in turn?" Carl murmured half into the kiss, eyes serious.

"If you're mine, I'm yours. You'll always get to keep me," he promised in turn. He was quite serious about it, too. And that was the part where he knew he wasn't being completely logical. Tatiana had called him possessive more than once already, yet he hardly ever got jealous, despite what history between Carl and Andrea or even Carl and Emma and the way they treated each other now. Carl was _his_ , and Carl himself was probably the last to doubt this, no matter what came to pass.

"We're not quite rational about it," Carl finally said, propped up on one elbow.

"Do we have to be?" Wills asked and mirrored his husband's pose. "I think we're entitled to be a little irrationality here."

Carl hummed in agreement and then gave a sigh. "Andrea will be devastated I won't come to be his and Tatiana's live-in boy toy." Wills raised his eyebrows, but Carl just drew him closer with a grin, gently bumping his thigh upwards against more sensitive areas. "He called when you and Bea were in Australia and offered shelter if you ever kicked me out. Said I could pay in kind."

"Hm, did he now." A typically teasing remark from the man, and now William wasn't surprised anymore that he had been so easily convinced that they were okay, if he had questioned Carl before already. "I should thank him for being so considerate."

"You should do that. Maybe we can return a few favours, I always thought a collar with Tatiana's name on it would really suit him." He nuzzled William's throat and placed idle kisses wherever he could reach, which made Wills decide to postpone thinking about what to do about their immediate problem and instead indulge in some lazy kissing while making out.

There was something to be said about drawing appreciative moans out of Carl, even if it didn't lead any further than that, for now.

~*~

Appearing in public together again was not enough to get the press to lay off what had to seem to them like the most spectacular potential scandal since the divorce of William's parents, just like Carl had predicted. Wills knew he should have known that just as well, but had dared to hope for a few days after his husband's return. In vain, he was coming to understand. The press had decided the 're-consolidation' was merely a farce put on for the media and while the Prince of Wales had refused any further comment, his facial expression whenever someone asked about the matter spoke volumes all by itself.

And Gran had told the two of them to fix it by themselves. While that order most certainly also included the offer to use every resource available to the British Crown (which were not few), Wills knew they'd better look elsewhere for assistance.

Which led their first impromptu, later quite more organised, councils of war in form of conference calls between Andrea and Tatiana, Guillaume and Amedeo and them. By rights, this would have been more effective had everyone participated, but they quickly came to the conclusion that Carl's close familial relationship to the Norwegian and Danish royal families would only be counter-productive in this case. The same was true for both their ties to the Greeks. The Spanish royal family was in over their heads with a governmental crisis of parliament, Máxima was visiting her family and while Willem-Alexander would have certainly done his part, they decided not to include him.

That, effectively, left them with their closest circle of friends as well as the minor nobility, who wouldn't have enough impact to do anything in this case, and who they didn't trust all that explicitly. And while the press was well aware there were ties between them and the Luxembourgian Hereditary Grand Ducal couple (funnily enough, those of blood were completely ignored), they had no way of knowing how deep they ran in truth. That had been a careful orchestration originally meant to be mere deception to prevent rumours, but which was now aiding them tremendously. As for the presumed next Prince of Monaco and his wife, the press certainly was aware of a friendship between them and Wills and Carl, but had treated their trips to Monaco always as holidays, not as visits.

As a first step, their friends had begun dropping comments; mostly only veiled hints, as outward comments might only have achieved the opposite of their objective. At times, though, they'd even been asked directly and and given innocent answers, about how they wouldn't know what went on there but could not possibly imagine anything amiss.

Wills wasn't completely comfortable including Andrea in this; while he usually wouldn't hesitate and while he he had limitless trust in his friend, he knew Andrea had his own problems in Monaco which were threatening to overwhelm him and didn't need them to add to it as well. But he had offered, more or less, although with the announcement that he'd need some support to consolidate his position once his uncle had decided to abdicate. And yet no one knew how imminent this event really was. Still, Wills and Carl both were extremely aware that it would be a trying time for their friend. And their support would be more effective if the press wasn't still doing somersaults over a divorce that would never happen.

"I could have told you a few appointments weren't going to cut it," Amedeo said presently, and his voice was far more patient and indulgent than Wills would have liked.

"I'm not sure a simple press conference will be enough either, though," Guillaume contemplated. "While I'm not usually a friend of elaborated ploys, do you have someone non-royal at hand who can act as a leurre?" The last word was decidedly French and Wills thought about calling up a dictionary, but was failed by spelling.

"Decoy," Andrea supplied. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, what do you want them to do, let the vultures get a few shots of someone coming out of York House or a hotel or something?"

"Sue the rags for defamation," Wills mused. They were sitting on the sofa and he had one of Carl's hands in both of his, comfortably resting in his lap. He still was loathe to let go of his husband at all these days, and while Carl didn't seem to share the sentiment to the same extent, he just let Wills indulgently have his way.

A quiet laugh from Amedeo, then Guillaume's amused voice, "You can't sue anyone, Wills. You're royalty. If it was that easy, believe me there'd be less trouble for all of us."

"See, I should have come visit you after all, so we could have had that affair," Andrea stated and what came next sounded more like a grunt of pain than an actual word.

"Ignore him," Tatiana sighed.

Carl meanwhile was looking at him somewhat sceptically. "Excuse me?" he asked loud enough to be transmitted to the others. There was a decided silence from the Luxembourgian side and Wills sighed.

"I suggested to Andrea that a visit, with the rumours raging far and wide, might as well be considered a booty call," Wills explained with a scowl. "And you forget, my friend, you're not a person under the code of civil law anymore, either." Not with Andrea officially being part of the princely family of Monaco and bearing the name Grimaldi, at least.

"Hasn't stopped my mother from doing it," he said and Wills just knew he shrugged, "and winning."

"Different circumstances," Guillaume supplied. "They're spinning it as effecting his position as the future king and as Carl Philip's position as future prince consort."

"Well, the most effective way to get the press to shut up is closed to you," that was Amedeo, sounding dismissive but contemplative enough that Wills wondered.

"Which would be?" Tatiana asked, obviously equally curious.

"Leak a sex tape. With date and all," Amedeo deadpanned and there was a definite grin in his voice, then he yelped and some muttering could be heard in the background. "I _said_ that way was closed to them," he emphasized, grumbling.

Wills bent his head and would have buried it in his hands, had he not still held Carl's. Instead he just pressed their joint hands to his forehead. Carl, meanwhile, had a hard time not to start laughing, leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple. "See, I told you they all were into discipline with a capital D," he murmured into his ear, too low for the others to hear and Wills just threw him a look. That was not what he wanted to think about now.

Instead, he turned back to the conversation at hand. "Gran said nothing outrageous, so that's definitely out."

"Everything short of keeping quiet will be considered outrageous, though, what we have to manage is the degree of it," Carl tried to get the conversation back on track but it seemed it wasn't meant to be.

"I don't know," Andrea mused, "maybe I should send you a camera next. I'm sure there's a market for this kind of stuff. I can't be the only one who'd like to- Ouch."

"You forget yourself," Tatiana threatened but the laugh trying to burst out of her gave her away.

"Not to ruin anyone's fun, but... Back on topic!" Wills said decisively, but after a few more backs and forth they decided to postpone until two days hence.

Eventually they decided the only thing they _could_ sensibly do was a press conference. Although it sat well with neither of them, for different reasons each, it was the most unobtrusive way to get this out of the way. Or so they could hope, at least.

'Unobtrusive' wasn't quite the right description, Wills thought when they entered the room they usually used for press conferences hand in hand and found it filled to the brim. The standing requirement for accreditation had been lifted for today on William's request, as to reach the biggest possible effect and let it ripple out. The constant murmuring of the reporters should have stopped when they came in, but when people saw their joined hands it only became more pronounced.

After exchanging a quick glance with Carl, to make sure he really was okay with this, they took their seats and placed their still entwined hands on the table.

No press microphones, just the palace-internal equipment for amplification, so Wills reached out with his free hand and activated the microphones. A second's worth of feedback made everyone cringe, but stopped quickly. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Wills said, leaning forward a little to test the acoustics and the murmurs stopped. "When I started attending Eton, the press agreed to a photo op and an opportunity for questions once a year in exchange for letting me pursue my studies in peace. Now, I'm not quite about to re-establish this practise, however, an opportunity for asking questions seemed appropriate. Hence, this open press conference."

The noise picked up again while everyone seemed to try to discern a pecking order after which they'd ask the questions. Carl sighed inaudibly at his side before speaking up. "If you can't decide, we're picking. You there, second to last row with the green shirt."

"And the awful neck tie, birds of a feather?" Wills murmured too quiet for the equipment and Carl tightened his hold minutely and raised the corner of his mouth in what should have been a grin. His husband actually was in a good mood, as far as that was possible when talking to the assembled press and Wills had worked hard for that.

"Daily Planet, Sir-" the man started but didn't get very far.

"You're not serious, are you?" Wills interrupted him and didn't know if he should sigh in annoyance or just stare.

"Uh..." The poor bloke clearly was at a loss for words and Carl saved him by waving off.

"Never mind. Ask your question."

"As everyone here is probably burning to know, are you getting a divorce?" That was put as blunt as could be and on one level Wills was glad it had come out like this, on another he understood the need for accreditation.

"No," he simply said. "Next." He pointed at a woman in the third row and she got up, smoothing down her just an inch too short skirt.

"Laurene Miller, Lusterworld Star, your Highnesses," she started and only then raised her eyes to them, "excuse me, but are you sure? The Prince of Wales-"

"My father is not part of this marriage, Miss Miller. That would be a little disturbing, wouldn't it?" He smiled his best princely smile at her and she nodded a little shyly. They had agreed to pick the people who were unfamiliar to them first, counting on the fact they likely wouldn't be as cut-throat in the business as their more royal-savy counterparts. "We're not getting a divorce."

Carl picked the next, another man, a boy really, looking barely out of his teens. "Darren Clay, Line of Sight, your Highnesses. I understand the recent headlines might be somewhat exaggerated, but under the circumstances, would a divorce not be in order? As you are quiet clearly separated already, why drag it out?"

Wills really wanted to groan in exasperation, but they'd only to blame themselves, they didn't strictly _have_ to do the press conference. Amedeo's sex tape idea suddenly seemed a lot more attractive, especially as a parcel from Andrea with a camera inside had arrived not two days ago. "We're not separated, sometimes time not shared is a matter of duties elsewhere."

He pointed at another man, this one surely in his fifties, and hopefully somewhat smarter.

But it went on and on. While questions were slowly spreading out to related topics - time away from London, potential affairs and whatever else the crazy hive could come up with - they always circled back to their alleged separation and divorce. That first mention of things Charles had said did not remain the only one. At some point, Wills started to consider if he should write post it notes and always hold up the one with the appropriate answer. If Carl's expression was anything to judge by, he was feeling the same way. All the worse, it was becoming slightly boring. Were those really the only things they could come up with?

After about an hour, Wills thought he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming, when Carl seemed to simply lose it. 

"Oh for-" he stopped himself. But his voice had risen and Wills could see people blinking in the first few rows. This was not the Prince Carl Philip they were accustomed to, who was usually monosyllabic, or as shortspoken as possible when a microphone or camera were present. "No matter how often you ask, the answer won't change: No, we are not getting a divorce and no, we are not separated."

"But-" It was a man in one of the middle rows who had raised his hand and half-risen.

It was the moment just after that protest when Carl did something Wills hadn't anticipated. He was just watching his husband, more than interested in his reaction, when Carl turned to him as well, reached out to grab him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him within an inch of his life; tongue and teeth and angling their heads for better access and all.

Wills had just enough sense to reach out and grope around the table until he hit the switch for the microphones, not caring about the stares and loud whispers and even the few cat calls, before he kissed Carl back thoroughly. They ended up with his hands in Carl's hair to keep the angle, and one of Carl's hands at the nape of his neck, the other still pressed against his chest. Sitting in those chairs was becoming extremely uncomfortable, and he hoped to all the power that were that neither of them would have to get up within the next few minutes, when they broke apart. 

"Wow," he said panting and Carl pressed another light kiss to his lips.

A rumble low in Carl's chest sounded even over the loud talking of the reporters in the room. He was smiling happily, the crow's feet and laugh lines in his face more pronounced than usual, but that also meant he was beyond all right with how things had turned out. A sign of happiness, of contention and Wills wouldn't want to miss it for the world.

"That should have brought the message across," Carl said with an air of satisfaction.

"Oh yes. And here Gran said nothing too outrageous." They were talking low, the equipment wouldn't have picked up on it even if it had still been switched on.

"They obviously weren't about to let it go," Carl said, then kissed him one last time before settling back properly into his chair again. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Wills said with a contended sigh, a smile and a scrutinising look at the crowd of reporters, who surely had gotten pictures for the front page, before he switched on the microphones again. "Any more questions?"

"That wasn't for show, was it?" someone who neither identified himself nor raised called from the back and Carl buried his face against his arms resting on the table, shoulders shaking with either laughter or a silent groan of exasperation, Wills wasn't quite sure.

Instead he turned to the crowd and smiled, not a princely smile this time, but a real one. "We don't need to do it for show," he answered and felt Carl's hand slip into his again. "Anything more?"

Half an hour with questions with actual substance followed, mostly regarding their future plans for some of their projects they had neglected over the past few weeks, and they answered as detailed as possible. It was Carl who called the last question. "Flemming, Motorsports World, Prince Carl Philip, will you be competing in the upcoming racing season again?"

"Of course," Carl grinned. "I have more than serious plans for a place in the top five this year."

Maybe, Wills thought, it was time to put some more padding to their reassurances. "That's all, folks, thank you for the attention. But speaking of my husband's racing career, to further counter any rumours of divorce, look out for the subtle changes." He could feel Carl's surprised look on him and there were questions after that, but he switched off the equipment and they got up to leave the room side by side as they had entered.

"Changes?" Carl murmured to him and looked at him sidelong.

"My coat of arms on your arse. Of your racing overalls, that is." He had made a deal, for once pressing his status as future King of England and brother-in-law to the future Queen of Sweden, and gotten a good price for sponsorship placement (not taxpayer's money, of course, a press release regarding that was already drafted and was waiting for Carl's first race this year).

"Subtle," Carl said with a snort.

"Just making sure people know you're mine."

"I daresay they would have known with less obvious hints, too." But Carl squeezed his hand in reassurance and Wills decided that didn't need an answer.

Messages were waiting for them from anyone they had ever known and they spent most of the rest of the day answering those that warranted an answer.

"That must have been the publicly acceptable version of a sex tape," Amedeo said that evening during another of their calls. With Guillaume still at work, their friend was just too happy to not only make commentary he would otherwise be punished for, but also to be distracted.

"I'd rather have had the real deal," Andrea muttered and it was probably his luck that Tatiana was in bed already with a headache, banning him on the couch for the night.

Amedeo sounded as if he was shaking his head. "Yeah, and whatever _is_ that between you anyway?"

Carl, who was lying with his head pillowed in William's lap, caught his eye in silent agreement. While it was not exactly a secret, about Andrea and Carl, nobody went and announced it to anyone. So Wills cleared his throat to pull the attention back to the actual topic at hand. "It seems Carl was fed up with the line of questioning."

"He too shy to say that himself now?" Andrea drawled and Wills was imminently thankful that he was obviously thinking about the same lines where the origin of the deeper ties of friendship with Carl were concerned.

"I'm getting my scalp massaged by my husband, I can't be bothered to respond," Carl sighed, but deigned to do so anyway. "They weren't going to let off, so I might just as well. Doesn't mean Her Majesty was too amused."

"You've never heard Gran yell at anyone," Wills admonished with a smile and rested the hand not buried in his husband's drying hair on his chest, gently rising and falling with each breath. But Carl wouldn't have that and started toying with his fingers.

"I'm not too keen on it, either," he grumbled. "It was enough having to listen your father yell at Harry all the time when we were living over there."

"Only Harry?" Amedeo asked. "Never one of you?"

"He largely ignores me. Or tries to," Carl said with a shrug no one could see. "He only remembers that I exist when he can snipe at us. You get used to it, astonishingly."

A short but strained silence followed and Wills used the moment to bent down for a quick kiss. Things with his father would not even out in the foreseeable future, and Carl deserved all the apology for that Wills could offer.

"So Amedeo and I were discussing that sex tape and were wondering if you wanted to buy shares," Andrea announced and it sounded too outrageous not to question this notion. As it turned out, Andrea had decided if he was buying from 'the industry' on a monthly basis anyway, he could just as well be a major shareholder of some of the companies he was subsidising. And while something like that might be accepted, or even expected, of the future sovereign of Monaco, Wills wasn't sure what the exalted members of the press would say should they learn about the same fact regarding him and Carl. On the business side of thing, Amedeo said it was a sound investment and they should consider making it a royal undertaking.

Guillaume? No, Guillaume didn't need to know. He'd just rave and complain, just to give in anyway. They could save all of them the stress. Fait accompli was a much better tactic, where Guillaume was concerned.

Wills could only shake his head, not admitting he was indeed willing to at least consider it.

~*~

The absolute best thing about being president of the Football Association was that watching matches was practically part of William's job, no matter if they were league or international matches or friendlies. So he was doing his duty and at the same time could enjoy some breathing space, even if he mostly didn't get to go in casual clothing, because it was, after all, still duty and not pleasure.

The great thing about being married to a man was Carl sharing his footie enthusiasm, so he actually liked to come along and didn't have to be goaded and convinced. Only that Carl couldn't be bothered to wear slacks had been a thing of controversy in the beginning. He'd concede to a sports coat, but no matter how much Wills had argued, he couldn't persuade his husband; Carl simply argued he'd done most of his official appointments in jeans back in Sweden so that would have to be enough for Great Britain as well. They didn't have that discussion anymore these days, having decided neither of them would yield their point, and the press had long given up commenting on Carl's style of dress, when it became obvious he wouldn't let himself be provoked.

All the more surprising when Carl showed up at the stadium a couple of minutes after Wills in full official get-up; dark suit, white shirt, no tie - probably left behind in the car. He dropped a quick kiss on William's lips, because they had been apart all day, and took his seat next to him with a sigh, while Wills just raised an eyebrow at him. "You knew I wouldn't make it home," he answered. Carl had spent the afternoon at an official function of his charity for disabled athletes, which required formal wear, simply out of respect if nothing else.

"I'm just surprised you didn't bring a change of clothes. Not that I'm complaining." Wills leaned over and dropped a kiss on Carl's ear before taking his hand. A surprising development was the press echo; for years after their marriage no one had paid any mind to casual affectionate gestures between them, but ever since that press conference the reporters had started to comment on it again. The Queen had been Not Amused over their spontaneous little stage play for the press, but when the majority of responses had been favourable or outrageously amused, things had smoothed over with her. Matters were not as easy with the Prince of Wales, though, who was still not talking to Carl to this day and had taken several weeks to communicate civilly with Wills again.

Not that he was surprised, really. After all, his one opportunity to drive them apart had failed, and by now the few reporters with a brain had figured out how the land lay, and the press attention his son's marriage was getting once more now didn't sit well with him. But Wills had decided it was becoming pointless trying to care, and at some point his father would just have to accept it. And if he didn't, then there was no helping it anyway, he was not willing to risk his relationship with his husband.

Carl shot him a look and a smile for the clothing comment, but didn't say anything else about the topic, knowing full well Wills _liked_ to see him in a suit once in a while. "I think I saw Theodora's boy toy when I was coming down here," he said instead.

"Oh?"

"Not sure, though. We should check at half-time." With the delightfully evil grin on his husband's face, Wills was hard-pressed not to kiss him. But that would probably result in something more than a little kiss, and he didn't think they should be getting up to anything now. Especially since Carl was starting to show evening stubble and that was just too enticing, when Wills thought about nuzzling under his chin or running his tongue- Maybe he should leave such thoughts for the bedroom.

Consequently, he cleared his throat. "You really want to make the poor man squirm under our collective attention again?"

"You know you want it, too," Carl responded cheekily and waggled his eyebrows. And that was when Wills just had to kiss him between laughs and chuckles.

They kept joking between them and pointing out acquaintances until the teams stepped onto the field and the national anthems were played.

After watching England destroy Switzerland and trying to taunt Theodora's boyfriend (somewhat unsuccessfully, bloody hockey players) how he could dare to come and watch the game without his formidable girlfriend in tow, they got home considerable early. Neither of them had any urgent work to do, and they found out with astonishment that, actually, they didn't strictly _have_ to get up before eight the next day.

"When did we last have a truly free evening?" Carl mused as he ran one hand through William's hair when he passed behind the sofa. Wills leaned back, enjoying the caress for the moment it lasted, and listened as two beers popped open.

"New Year's?" he called back, turning towards the hallway.

Carl came back into view from the hall, eyebrows raised as he handed over one open bottle. "Now that's a bit rich, you know how many months that's been?"

"And do you know how busy we've been this years?"

"Point taken." One of them had always been somehow occupied, and if not directly, then something had always been in the back of their minds, so truly free... "But we had guests, then."

"Oh, as if Amedeo and Guillaume are such a bother," Wills chided gently as Carl settled close, head tilting a little to rest on his shoulder, after nuzzling his throat affectionately. Nice.

"No," Carl admitted and traced patterns on his thigh with his free hand, "not really. Low maintenance."

Wills snorted and took a large swallow. "You wouldn't say that if you were the one who had to keep Guillaume's workaholism in check."

Reaching out for the paper lying on the seat on William's other side - and subsequently almost ending up lying in his lap - Carl hummed as he flipped it through. "It's not like you do. Amedeo knew what he was getting into. I'm not pitying him one little bit. Want to watch a movie?"

Wills repositioned his arm so that he could slip his fingers beneath the waistband at the back of Carl's trousers. "What do you say about shower and bed?"

His husband threw him an amused, knowing look and leaned in to lick his throat. "I say that is a splendid idea."

After they'd showered, and gotten messy and showered again, they were lying in bed and Carl was placing little kisses over his collar bone and chest while hooking one hand under one of his thighs to lift it over his own, effectually entwining them. Wills hummed, bent down and dropped a kiss on top of his husband's head, hands mapping out the muscles in his shoulders.

They had it good, he thought when Carl pushed himself up again to claim his mouth for lazy kissing before they eventually went to sleep. They'd _made_ it good, he decided and poured his feelings into the connection between them.

~*~

As royal weddings went, they had nothing on investitures.

In the foreseeable future - not tomorrow, not next year but soon enough - a comparable ceremony would take place with himself as the main protagonist. The only circumstance that kept Wills from grimacing during mass was the knowledge that cameras were trained on him, and he didn't want to give anyone the impression he wasn't here by his own choice. There was no helping it - this was in the future of a lot of his peers, and Andrea was only the first to come into his power, albeit there was no telling how willingly.

Carl nudged him gently as Andrea walked past, looking the most regal Wills had ever seen him. And as if the weight of the whole world was resting on his shoulders. He would have liked to reach out, but this was the part their friend would have to do alone, aware of the full burden he'd be carrying from now on. Instead, he hooked his ring and little finger under Carl's, touching his wedding band minutely, only to have Carl join their hands properly.

Andrea knelt in front of the bishop and when the actual ceremony started - an act that he would have liked to drop completely but which wouldn't have been accepted by the public - Wills remembered too well the evening they had learned about this. In retrospect, their friend's reaction seemed to be understatement.

It had been one of Andrea's surprise visits several months ago, the staff now so used to him they just let him come up by himself, and Wills had known instantly that something must have happened. The hug lasted just a fraction too long, and when he caught Carl's eye a moment later, it was clear his husband had caught on to the change as well. 

"Andrea?" he eventually called after their friend, who had already gone and dropped off a travel bag in the guest room, so Wills followed and leaned in the doorway. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Andrea answered brightly and pushed past him, one hand briefly resting on his shoulder before slipping away again. With a sigh, Wills went into the living room where quickly shook his head at Carl.

"Did Tatiana kick you out again?" his husband asked casually, handing Andrea an open bottle of beer, but their friend just raked a hand through his short hair and settled on the couch.

"Nah, I just thought I haven't been here in a while and it would be nice and all."

They exchanged another look; while Andrea certainly liked them and didn't exactly mind coming to Britain, he wasn't fond of the climate and even less fond of the displeased looks he'd caught from William's father a time or two. "You're closer to him," Wills whispered into Carl's ear when he bent down and stole his husband's beer. "Try getting it out of him."

Carl almost snorted and took the beer back. "How's Tatiana?"

"She's fine, she's fine. Your godchildren are fine as well. No worries there. Everyone says hello, by the way." He half-emptied his beer in one gulp and leaned back into the cushions, heaving a sigh. "God, my life sucks."

"Says the man with a loving wife and two adorable children," Carl remarked sarcastically and raised an eyebrow.

Andrea just barked a laugh. "Have you ever gotten up every two hours at night for feeding? And that's not even taking into consideration your uncle announcing you're to take over his position in less than a year."

Wills blinked, looked at Carl, then again at Andrea and Carl leaned up to whisper, "You're the heir, you talk to him."

Carl was evil, sometimes. But this wasn't the moment where he could indulge in some well-deserved punishment. "Come again?" he asked towards Andrea, who looked at them with a half-distracted expression.

He got up and started pacing the length of the living room. "Uncle Albert has decided it would be much easier for him if he didn't have to bother anymore, and that it was time someone else dealt with the trappings of being Monaco's sovereign. Which means my mother. Which means, in turn, me." He explained with elaborate gestures left and right, not looking at them. "Now he screwed up everything he could, he lets someone else put the shoulder to the wheel."

Andrea raked a hand through his hair again while Wills exchanged a quick look with Carl. There wasn't really much either of them could say to that. Everyone with eyes and half a brain knew Monaco hadn't fared well in recent years, although Andrea tried not to comment on it extensively. "When?" Carl eventually asked.

Their friend shrugged. "Who knows? It's all up to his whims, as always."

"And your aunt?" Wills wanted to know, frowning. "Does she know?" The Princess of Monaco would very likely not be thrilled if she learned of this development.

Throwing his arms in the air in exasperation, Andrea stopped right in front of him and Wills straightened to look him in the eye. "What do you _think_ , William?" That was a definitive no, and Wills raised his eyebrows and bit his lower lip. That could be fun, then. "His timing has never been any good, but this could not have been worse!"

"Would you have preferred it to happen five years ago?" Wills asked calmly. "When he didn't have you do anything, yet?" At least this way, Andrea had been involved in the goings on in the government, even if he hadn't carried any responsibility whatsoever.

Andrea stopped at the far end of the room, looked at them in turn, before taking a breath to calm himself. "Do you know how bad things are?" he asked quietly.

Wills had to look away. When Andrea had first made noises that his uncle was starting to draft him for official matters, Wills had put out discreet inquiries. ecause he'd known matters weren't exactly rosy in Monaco, and the tentative answers he had received had been worrisome, to say the least. Amedeo's intel had sketched no better picture. "Marginally," he responded eventually and saw Andrea nod.

"Whatever you know, believe me, it's worse. It's not just the money. And the complications with where some of the businesses are coming from. Practically the whole governmental body needs to be exchanged." His voice had grown more agitated again, and he took up his pacing again. "I'm not sure this is doable," he finally admitted.

"Andrea-"

"What? And please don't tell me you're sure I can do it, that's not the point," he interrupted, frowning.

"Isn't it?" Wills asked and felt Carl reach for his arm to caution him, just a quick stroke down the length of the scar, before his husband got up and left the room. But Wills never took his eyes off Andrea; Carl probably figured this would be taken better one at a time.

Andrea, in turn, seemed genuinely angry now. "No, Wills, it's not! Yes, I can do it. There's a whole stack of drafts for new laws in a locked drawer in my mother's office, a list of replacements, a list for revokes of residency. I can't count how many lists there are, how many appointments to be scheduled once the formal part is over with." He huffed for a moment and it was almost like he wanted to strangle the air, then all the fight seemed to go out of him. "It just might be too late. I don't know."

"You can always up and leave for South America," Wills suggested, which drew a humourless smile from his friend. "Provided Pierre lets you keep your passport."

"I'm more concerned about other matters with my brother," Andrea sighed, and even though he didn't mention it, this must have been another financial issue. "It's my responsibility. You have yours, I have mine."

"With the difference that my predecessors are actually interested in their jobs."

"That's controversial." He fell silent for a moment. "I need a favour."

"I have a feeling it's not if you can crash here tonight," Wills tried to joke, but it backfired and put another frown on his friend's face.

"I'd never ask you to make an investment. Unless it's about shares of a company providing adult entertainment, but you're much more beneficiary of that than I am, anyway." And that was not what he'd been aiming at.

Wills waited until he was done and raised his eyebrows again. "And now be less ridiculous and ask your favour."

"I know this is selfish and quite a lot to ask, because this may interfere with your position, but will you be there? Can you?" He sounded resigned and defeated.

William's very first impulse was to his friend that _of course_ they would be there, not because they were all heirs - both second in line, even though it was a mere formality for Andrea - but he understood the question. They weren't just friends, as much as Wills might wish for it. So while it was a given to do this as friends, it still was a favour, but one he felt confident about granting even without approval from gran.

Instead, he shook his head and crossed the room. "We'll always have your back, idiot." He drew Andrea into a hug, letting the man have a moment to breathe, before guiding him to the door. "Let's look for Carl, or he'll have dinner without us."

Later that same night, with Andrea mostly on the way to rat-arsed drunk and bundled up in bed in the guest room, both he and Carl were propped up on their elbows in their own bed, talking. "I worry about him," Wills admitted with a frown.

Carl made a sound of agreement. "It's not like we can send business, though." He seemed to consider the implications, because the next thing he said was, "And I'm not sure we should, even if we could." No, indeed, nepotism was the last thing they should probably bring to Monaco on top of everything.

"So, holidays?"

"And a few weekends," Carl had agreed and leaned forward for a kiss.

And now they were moving out of the cathedral, a slow procession making their way towards the Princely Palace, where the second part of the ceremony would take place. He saw Carl blink into the bright sunshine after the relative gloom of the church and took his hand as they made their way down the stairs. It was a weird time now for the Monegasque, Andrea being the third Prince in a generation now.

Monaco's new sovereign and his family were supposed to be at the head to the column, so Wills was rather surprised when he found Charlotte waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, holding Stefano's hand tightly in hers. "Can you take him?" she asked and let go of his hand to stroke over his head. "He can't keep pace, and I don't think I can carry him all the way."

It wasn't really far but one look at her five inch heels told Wills everything and he bent down to his godson, who obediently put both little arms around him and let himself be lifted. For a moment he wondered why Pierre wasn't doing it, but when Wills craned his neck to see, he could just make out Pierre walking at his brother's right, slightly behind him, with Tatiana on the other side. Their daughter was with her godmother; Alexandra would have been able to leave if the little girl got restless during the ceremony, unlike any of the others. Wills nodded at Carl and together with Charlotte they made their way with quick but measures steps towards the front.

"He holding up okay?" Carl asked quietly and Charlotte shrugged.

"Not much of a choice, has he? It means a lot to him, you all being here, so that's helping. We've seen this before, he'll manage." She whispered but fell silent when they took their places in the procession. Vicky was at the front of the guests, together with Guillaume and Amedeo; this was her second ascension to the throne of Monaco, too, and she nodded at him almost imperceptibly, when he looked around. Stefano was waving at her with a huge grin on his face, momentarily distracted from toying with the medals pinned to William's chest, and she was waving back with a smile.

"Did Papa promise you something if you were good?" Wills asked quietly and Stefano pushed away from his shoulder look at him, an expression of glee on his face.

"Ice cream," he said with satisfaction and Wills chuckled. It still amazed him how easily the little one was picking up all the different languages people spoke with him, but it seemed to work splendidly.

"Ice cream's good," he nodded in response and Stefano nodded too and wriggled a little to see what was up ahead. "Careful," Wills admonished gently.

"No falling with you," the little boy declared but still clutched at his neck tighter, just to be sure, probably.

"No, I won't let you fall, you're right." He kissed Stefano on the cheek and it wasn't long anymore until they arrived at the Palace. Members of Andrea's family were to go up to the balcony, while everyone else was supposed to stand aside while a small military function took place and the last part of the ceremony, that would make Andrea head of the Monegasque state for good.

Pierre stepped up to him and drew him aside. "Give him to me, so we can get this over with."

Having talked with Vicky and Guillaume about how exactly this investiture would take place and discussed just how bad a breach of protocol his plan might be, he threw his sister-in-law a look and saw how she had stepped up to Alexandra by now and was talking to her quietly. Their conclusion was that this was Monaco and protocols were breached all the time, and as long as they were only toeing the line of scandal, that was probably all well enough. Consequently, he shook his head at Pierre. "This is the part where we'll come into play."

A frown spread on the other man's face and his eyes turned scrutinizing, but Wills just waited until he nodded, and by then Vicky had come to them as well, Louise sleeping in her arms. "Ready?" she asked, but only looked at Pierre.

"You're something," he murmured but nodded at them to follow. Carl made his way over to Amedeo and Daniel, while Guillaume slowly trudged after the three of them. He didn't like the idea and he he made it clear how he _would definitely stay in the background_ , but he was there and that was what counted.

They heard some murmuring, but they quickly died off. Charlotte met them at the entrance to the Palace and took her brother's arm. "Adopted them?"

"Naturally," Pierre answered graciously and tugged his sister's arm closer to him.

Wills exchanged an amused glance with Vicky, while Guillaume just looked sceptical at the prospect, but kept any complaints to himself until they arrived at the upstairs balcony. Princess Caroline and Albert would stay in the courtyard, they presented what had gone past and would stand aside, when Andrea received the last trappings of his new office. Tatiana, likewise, had remained downstairs, but she would stand on the other side, awaiting her husband to return with his new trappings. Andrea's aunt and cousins were already present, and Pierre and Alexandra positioned themselves next to them, where they belonged.

Wills and Victoria took the second row, holding Andrea's children in silent vigil, with Guillaume a half-step behind them. They had no official role, by rights they shouldn't have been there, but they had agreed that the future Prince of Monaco and his sister being at their father's investiture, being held by the future King of England and the future Queen of Sweden would be too good for the press to pass up on.

"And me?" Guillaume had asked. Amedeo had taken care of the discussion by responding dryly, "You're the eyecandy." Carl had almost cracked up.

The ceremony had started and Stefano was craning his neck to try and see better, even though his line of sight already was above his uncle's head. Wills shifted his grip to give him a better vantage. Presently, Andrea received his standard from the head of the Crown Council - Guillaume had been invaluable explaining these details - and mild surprise could be seen when he unfurled the cloth of the flag. He hadn't known what his monogram would look like before now; Caroline had petitioned to be the one to take this in hand when Carl had called her and offered to make the design, and the members on the Crown Council had agreed. The initials of Andrea's first names - A and P - swirled together, yet still remained distinguishable under the princely crown and a small smile spread on his face. There was no way he could know who was responsible for it, but it was clear he appreciated the gesture.

A shake of hands with the former Prince followed, a kiss to the cheek from his mother and Andrea was back with his wife, receiving another kiss, before waving at the audience, eyes sliding over the assembled crown princely couples and inclining his head fractionally. There were plenty of Monegasque citizens among the crowd, who seemed glad a change in government had happened without anyone dying.

Eventually, Andrea turned around to look up at his family, surprise quickly replaced by a wide smile and a disbelieving shake of his head. Stefano waved back wildly and called for his father, while Wills smiled back fondly and gave an acknowledging nod.

They had themselves a prince now, it seemed.

~*~

They had spent the afternoon with Guillaume and Amedeo, while the ladies were getting dressed for the evening festivities and Monaco's new Prince conducted his first official duties and approved several laws that had already gone through the other governmental authorities. Andrea said he had read the drafts already and his signature made them effective immediately. There had been talk about revoking several residencies and Wills had the inkling this would be carried out while they were at the ball this evening; plausible deniability and all that.

Currently, Andrea was being congratulated by his guests while everyone else mingled, but they had agreed they would come more or less last, to get a chance at a few private words instead of the rushed affair that was currently taking place. Even though they were staying for a few more days in Monaco and had their usual room in the Princely Palace, this was the actual event and congratulations, the official ones at least, were in order now.

"Prince William, is it?" an elderly gentleman, one of the senior members of the Crown Council, said to his right when he was waiting for Carl to return with their drinks. Dinner had been pleasant and in a relaxed atmosphere despite the presence of the press, but now the guests were among themselves. The media would still be outfitted with official pictures, but only from selected photographers. No one expected any scandals on this day, but Andrea had asked for a healthy dose of discretion.

Now he turned towards the man with a polite smile on his face. "I'm surprised my face doesn't seem to be televised far enough, after all, if you have to ask."

The man laughed. "I wasn't quite sure how to open a conversation with you, to be truthful." William just kept smiling and waited. Politicians usually had an agenda and they came to the point more quickly if they weren't being humoured. "It seems your presence at Prince Andrea's wedding wasn't a fluke after all. I'm surprised, I have to admit."

Wills blinked at the directness of the statement, absently registering the slightly hesitation upon using Andrea's title now. Old habits, most likely. "Excuse me?"

"Well, we did have quite favourable press echo upon the assembled heirs to various monarchies present. Now, we expected the Hereditary Grand Duke, of course, but not quite the rest." The man looked away for a long moment. "It was a surprise."

"Well, I was invited," Wills answered mildly but with an inward sigh.

He made an affirmative sound and looked at Wills again. "Yes, but that was the case in the last ten years of Monegasque official functions." And Vicky and Guillaume had been guests at those, because they had a good rapport with Albert, but no one else, after politely declining the invitations.

"That is true. However, you may recall I'm not traditionally married. Andrea has become an invaluable friend in the last couple of years and you might be aware my husband and I have been here unofficially on a number of occasions." Wills answered the question quietly, intentionally only using his friend's first name. "We're looking at intensifying that connection now. In addition, the Prince has been at enough events on his uncle's behest to establish a similar connection with others."

"Be that as it may-"

But Wills was fed up and he could see Carl frowning at him from behind the man's back, so he decided to employ a bit of royal eccentricity. "If you'll excuse me, I promised a dance to someone." And the he left the man standing there without waiting for an answer and pulled Carl away. "I'll need someone to dance or be called a liar."

"And I'm what, your drink dispenser?" Carl raised an eyebrow. "Who was that?"

"Politician. I think we've managed to keep our visits a little _too_ private in the past, this is going to be interesting." He spotted Theodora chatting with Haakon and veered into their direction, while taking a tentative sip from the drink Carl had still been holding for him. "Is one of you up for a dance?"

The Crown Prince of Norway raised a telling eyebrow at him, but Theodora sighed dramatically and pulled him away before the other man could make any comment. "You'll have to give me your drink for that."

"God, you're easy to satisfy." But he did hand her the drink that she downed in one very unladylike draught.

Setting the glass down on the tray of a passing waiter she pulled him further on until they had reached what passed for the dance floor. "It's the only way you have to satisfy me, after all," she sighed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Have you spoken to our new princely prince?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I plan to, soon. You?"

"I think he doesn't know if he's supposed to be glad or annoyed or scared or everything at once. What's our plan there?" She asked this as he led her through the first steps. Dancing he could do with his eyes closed and his feet bound together, that was just as well so he could school his expression into no-nonsense.

"Plan? Which plan?" Playing this game with Theodora was dangerous, not in the last because she was wearing four inch heels that had looked deadly from a distance already.

"Don't give me that. I know you too well to buy this. I know you spirited Andrea away, you can't tell me you have no further objectives." For a moment he almost regretted their shared childhood.

Giving in, he shrugged. "Carl and I are here another three days, the others are going home tomorrow evening. Amedeo and Guillaume are coming down next weekend, although looking at Guillaume, that's as much to his benefit as Andrea's. There's a sort of roster, if you want in on it."

She stared. "You have a roster? Seriously?"

"Not quite. It's more a loose arrangement and it's subject to change, as not everyone will always have free spots in their schedules and Andrea will be inhumanly busy the next couple of years anyway. But the presence of a renowned actress and formidable princess such as you will certainly only add to the glamour. And lets not forget your strong and famous boyfriend the hockey player." He smiled disarmingly as he led her off the dance floor and hugged her to him. Laughing, she hugged him back as they made their way back to where Carl and Haakon were standing, having acquired a few more onlookers with them, who scattered now. "See, formidable, I told you."

"Flatterer," she grinned and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Remember he's mine," Carl said and rolled his eyes, but let himself be pacified with a kiss.

"You can keep him, I have my own." She waved off and made to wander away, probably in search for another drink, pulling Haakon along with her.

Carl sighed and rolled his shoulders beneath the jacket of his uniform, before stepping closer again and putting both arms around him. "Pierre mentioned very offhandedly that his brother was bogged down with a gaggle of politicians when he wandered by a minute ago."

"Did he now," Wills murmured and pressed a kiss against his husband's temple. "Figure it was a hint?"

"Broad as a barn door," Carl sighed. "Shall we go be proper princes and rescue the damsel in distress?"

"I'll buy you another Porsche if you say that to Andrea when Tatiana's there," Wills smirked as they slowly picked their way around the other guests.

Carl blinked. "And have her beat us to death with her purse? That is a tiny little purse, it would take _hours_!"

"If that's your biggest concern..." He bent down for another kiss, quite in the middle of the party but no one really seemed to care, before guiding them towards where Andrea stood talking to several men, looking like he was about to get angry. A silent look exchanged with Carl and they let go of one another; divide and conquer.

"Gentlemen," Wills said and cleared his throat. Andrea looked towards him wearily, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Tatiana was nowhere to be seen, probably having figured it was now or never to get something to drink for both of them.

"If you'd excuse us," Carl said from the other side and the seven men who'd all tried talking to their new prince at once turned around, not quite comfortable to be approached from two sides. In the meantime, Wills had stepped around them to put himself between them and their quarry; a tactic that had worked on several occasions with others before, and didn't miss its effect now.

"Where'd you learn that little trick?" Andrea whispered into his ear when he'd drawn Wills into a hug, that just might have been a little on the clingy side but Wills let it pass. After the absolute maximum of it being socially acceptable he was let go and pecked on both cheeks.

"Battle tactics have to be good for something at least, in this day and age," he answered while Andrea greeted Carl, letting one hand rest on his shoulder even after he drew away again.

"I see, that's what they're teaching you heirs these days," Andrea mused with a long sigh.

"You're one to talk," Carl said with a laugh and his friend gave them a self-conscious smile. "Congratulations are in order, I guess."

"Thank you. Although we'll see what it's worth. And thank you for coming to my aid back there." The new Prince of Monaco - and that was something Wills would seriously have to wrap his mind around - said with a look at the still not dissolved knot of men.

But Wills waved off. "At your service, Your Serene Highness. One of them got to me earlier, it seems they don't quite know what to make of you being so well connected. Makes me glad we decided to stay a few more days."

Their friend made a sound of disapproval and raked the hand he had rested on Carl's shoulder through his hair. "They're fearing for their position, and rightly so. They know they can't manipulate me and that has them worried. You're welcome whenever you find the time, just don't expect me to entertain you."

"Oh, I think we can manage that all by ourselves." Wills leered at Carl.

"I'm sure you can," Tatiana's voice sounded from behind and she leaned to kiss Wills on the cheek before handing Andrea a glass and kissed Carl, too. "Drink that," she ordered her husband and shot Wills a questioning look, but he just shook his head in denial.

"Gotta love a woman who brings me whisky," Andrea said with a loving smile and knocked the mouthful back at once. "Thanks."

"You want more? I hid the bottle."

Andrea contemplated his empty glass for several seconds, then shook his head. "Need to stay reasonably sober, at least. Later, though, I'll definitely need more later." He kissed her quickly before turning towards Wills again, mien serious. "You can tell them off if they're harassing you. You're my guests, it's none of their business."

"We'll keep telling them how much we enjoy your hospitality despite your heavy workload until it sticks, don't worry," Wills said with a shrug and slid his arm around Carl when he came to lean against him. "It's not like we can help you clean house, but there won't be any dynastic quarrelling that's only going to cost you nerves. And besides, everyone will get some sun." He grinned and pointedly looked over his shoulder where he knew Guillaume to be standing, who had let off quite a bit since Andrea had taken him to task, but was still more pale than was healthy.

A woman younger than any of them stepped up to Tatiana and whispered something to her. "Looks like it's been too exiting for small children to find any rest at night. I'll be back soon." She dropped another kiss on Andrea's lips and was gone in a flutter of dress and hair. Wills just hoped the two of them would be able to continue being hands-on parents, now that they had moved to Monaco again.

"How's she doing?" Carl asked quietly, looking after Monaco's new princess.

Andrea huffed a laugh and kept playing with his empty glass. "She's holding it together better than me, she's had some long talks with my mother in the last few months. After all, she knew it was coming."

"So did you," Wills reminded him gently.

"Yeah," he nodded and they exchanged a long look. That was something not even Carl would understand, no matter how much Wills tried to explain it; there was just no way for him to see all the little nuances that encompassed the knowledge of what they would be one day. Or were already, in Andrea's case. He cracked a smile and reached out to take the empty glass from his friend, touching their fingers together lightly in reassurance. "Are you sure you don't want any more to drink? You look like you could need it."

Carl nudged him painfully in the ribs. "Hey, you're not supposed to get him drunk so you can have your wicked way with him," he said mildly. After looking Andrea up and down again though, he allowed, "Although you do look spooked."

"Why thank you, aren't you flattering as always," Andrea retorted. "I can't be drunk for my own party." Wills looked at Carl, who looked at him and then they both raised an eyebrow at Andrea. Wills, at least, had lost count how often Andrea had been dunk at his own parties, or Albert for that matter. Andrea grinned and raised a placating hand. "Okay, but at least for _this_ party I should stay sober. And probably start doing princely things, so you, go be royal and drink some of that champagne for me, have your wicked way with each other later."

Wills looked at his husband, who was sharing a private grin with Andrea. "Is he kicking us out?"

"Seems like it," Carl responded and let go of him to step up to Andrea and peck him on the cheek. "Say the word if you need us. Otherwise we'll see you tomorrow, at the latest."

It was William's turn next and he drew Andrea into a quick, one-armed hug and kissed his cheek. "Count on us," he whispered before releasing him again.

"I am," Andrea said an accepted a glass of water from a waiter, probably sent by Tatiana on her way out. "Thank you."

Carl winked at their friend and took William's arm to move off.

"What do you think?" Wills asked, as he spotted Amedeo chatting with Mette-Marit and Màxima and waved.

Carl sighed and followed his gaze, a small smile spreading on his face and he leaned his head against William's arm for just a second. "He's lucky to have us?"

"That he is," Wills agreed solemnly, let his husband's arm slip out of his and took his hand instead. "As for us..." Carl looked at him curiously and ducked his head to drop a quick kiss on his lips and smiled. "We've come through."

"Wills..." Carl squeezed his hand, making him look at him again, his eyes were dancing with amusement. "We've been married for _years_. Then again, between your several bastard children and both our infidelities, and let's not forget our impeding divorce, I guess we've managed to come quite far."

"I guess the spectacular snog on telly did its part there," Wills answered airily and tugged his husband to a halt. Carl's eyebrows rose in question but his gaze softened when Wills traced the fingertips of his free hand over one cheekbone and over his temple, to cup the side of his face. There was a very short moment of silent communication that held vows, promises, understanding and simple love, before he bent down and sealed their mouths together. The kiss was slow and sweet, with tongues only coming out to taste and teasingly swipe over lips and Wills could have just easily forgotten the party still going on around them, had it not been for the whooping cat call of the Dutch Crown Princess, clearly directed at them.

They separated, smiling, and the hand Carl had placed on his hip, fingers wriggled beneath the jacket of his uniform, vanished - even though he leaned in for a second, trusting Wills to keep him upright and sighed quietly.

They had come through, indeed. Naturally, and thankfully, they were not the only ones who had, either. And they were not yet done. None of them. It was no question, in his mind, that they would give and receive all necessary support. And then some.

They had come through. And they were not done. They could weather anything.

Another smile passed between them and they joined their friends, who were already waiting for them.

-Fin-


End file.
